Give me an answer
by Annemarie01
Summary: Fenris isn't at all pleased whith Hawke's disappearance. So he searches her out and demands an explanation. He has some pressing questions, she's on edge. Will she be able, or willing, to answer him..? Will he accept her predicament? In short, some kind of alternative clash of Titans. M rated for now
1. Chapter 1

**Yes, yes, I know: everyone is up to their knees in exiting new love-affairs but I couldn't leave my favourite couple behind just like that. Hence this short story. I simply wasn't able to stop thinking how Fenris would react to Hawke's decisions, her rather stupid and thoughtless decisions in my opinion (what the hell drove that woman to abandon her hard won elf in the first place) but who am I to criticize. **

**Hope you like it.**

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Give me an answer

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Hawke pinched the bridge of her nose. She had been pouring over old books and trying to decipher scarcely readable scribbles on crumbling parchment for hours now and a dull throbbing pain had started at the back of her head. A servant had put a plate with food next to her on the table but she had hardly touched the now cold meat and vegetables and had only taken two or three bites from the gone stale dark bread. Now and again she had sipped from the cup holding red wine. She took a larger gulp now, hoping it would still the upcoming irritating headache. She let out a deep sigh. The library of Weisshaupt Fortress was well stocked; in fact she had never before visited a place that held so many volumes. Nevertheless the information about red lyrium was almost non-existent and even though she had found some notes considering Corypheus, it hadn't helped much. Let alone she had found a connection between the two unsavoury topics. She could imagine the Grey Wardens weren't particularly proud of the episode with the ancient Tevinter magister, or whatever he was, but in the end they weren't the ones who had unleashed the beast and set it loose on the world.

She felt responsible for this perilous chaos. It had been her father who had been forced by Grey Wardens to bind Corypheus in his prison and he had invented the intricate seals to keep him hidden from the world in a place where he could do no harm. And she, his daughter of all people, had freed him. Not for the first time she wondered what game their guide Larius had played. He had been more than excited she had turned up and although he had insisted he wanted her to slay the Tevinter magister of old or some unique and extremely dangerous kind of darkspawn or whatever the monster represented, she now couldn't shake off the feeling the former Grey Warden Commander had known Corypheus couldn't be killed by simple human weapons. That he had used her to free him from the magical shackles her father had made. For a time Hawke had been convinced Janeka had been as deluded as Larius had seemed to be, be it in another way; in fact she still was. The Warden had insisted she wanted to liberate Corypheus to use him as a weapon against the blights. Hawke had to smile thinly at the thought. The idea Corypheus could be used for whatever means was almost funny if the matter hadn't been so grievously. But by now she doubted the intentions of Larius. He had accused Janeka of falling for the alluring call of the old magister but she had been asking herself for a while if he himself hadn't been already under his influence. Perhaps both had been.

And she and her companions had been caught up in the middle, thinking to do the only thing that could solve the mess. They thought they had been proven right after they had seemed to have slaughtered the creepy power-mad idiot. Hawke clenched her fists. He _had_ been dead, godsdamned; no-one with so many lethal wounds, inflicted by knife, sword, crossbow bolts and mage-fire alike, lying in a pool of his own blood, ought to be alive. And besides that he hadn't been breathing and there had been no pulse. They had checked his condition, his very _dead_ condition, thoroughly. And now the fiend had risen from that death as the embodiment of evil, threatening to drag the whole world into the maelstrom of his megalomaniacal vision. She was well aware Varric felt guilty about it, being convinced he was the one who had set the whole thing into motion. She sighed. The dwarf felt unnecessarily guilty about a lot of things. He even blamed himself for introducing red lyrium to the world. As if they had known up forehand what awaited them in the Deep Roads. As if he and his brother had been the only ones risking the dangers of that blasted area to acquire riches, as if she hadn't been part of it. She wondered where he had caught such feelings of responsibility; she supposed the dreadful events in Kirkwall and everything that had followed from it had coloured his mind. And probably the interrogation of the Seeker Cassandra hadn't helped much. But in the end it had been her blood and her decisions that had made the current nightmare possible. Varric was just another victim of her actions.

She had been the best part of a week in Weisshaupt by now and she had travelled to the place with a heavy heart. It hadn't been easy to tell the First Warden about what happened at Adamant, of the corruption of the Warden mages and the terrible mistake commander Clarel had made though the woman had put it right in the end. She had paid for it with her life, as had Stroud who had died as a hero in her eyes. The First Warden in Weisshaupt had taken their deaths quite lightly, far too lightly to her taste.

'They were Grey Wardens, they were supposed to fight darkspawn,' he had said nonchalantly after she had updated him about the gruesome and disturbing occurrences, 'they were not the first to fall in that everlasting battle, they won't be the last.'

Hawke had had a hard time to refrain herself from hitting the man and wipe the infuriating impassive expression off his face. She could clearly remember that crucial moment when the Inquisitor made her decision and condemned Stroud to his death. The moment the man with whom she had quarrelled not minutes before over who would make the sacrifice to allow the others a safe escape, valorously drew his blade and without second thought attacked the nightmare that stood between them and their safe return to reality. At the cost of his own life.

And she could still see Varric's desperate and deeply hurt look when she without thinking had vehemently stated she should be the one to give them a potential retreat because Stroud should rebuild and lead the Warden forces at Adamant. 'I bet Fenris will be highly thankful for your grant gesture,' she had heard him mutter and she had almost crumpled under his words.

Fenris.

She missed him so much it physically hurt. But she couldn't take the risk of him dying for her. Not again. He had been gravely injured during the battle in Kirkwall's Gallows because he had thrown himself between her and the completely gone insane Knight Commander Meredith. Her with red lyrium infected sword had skewered him and she hadn't even noticed it at the moment. He hadn't himself until the adrenaline had drained and he had collapsed during their flight to the hills surrounding the city. At that moment she had been utterly thankful she had decided to let Anders live – for the moment. He had been Fenris's saviour, whether the elf liked it or not. The mage had done everything to save Fenris's life but it had been a near call. The whole night the elf's life had hung on a very thin thread and after she was certain he had survived she had hold him in her arms during the following day, stroking his soft white hair, wiping his sweaty brow, caressing the tanned skin of his beloved body and tenderly kissing his face. She had told him several times over she loved him dearly and he meant everything to her, even though she wasn't certain he could hear her because he was still unconscious at the time, only slowly recovering from his in fact lethal wound. And in the middle of the following night she had disappeared, leaving him behind. The thought of him giving his life for her once more had been too much; she had to save him and at that moment the only way to accomplish that was to abandon him. The mere thought of him being ripped away from the world of the living made her panic if not going into an uncontrollable fright; she hadn't been able to think clearly. She still wasn't. Not when it came down to him. Yes, she missed him like hell but at least she knew he was still alive and would likely survive the ordeals Thedas had to handle.

The only person belonging to the old bunch she had been in touch with was Varric; she frequently sent him messages and he answered with coded letters his small army of confidents left in secret places, only for her for find. And so she learned Fenris had feverishly searched for her and when it became clear to him she didn't want to be found had taken his frustration out on slavers who were prying on Kirkwall refugees. Good. Those were feeble adversaries, they formed little risk of taking his life. As long as she knew he would live on, she was satisfied. After all the members of her family, the persons so dear to her, had perished she wouldn't be able to cope with his death. She'd rather live without him but with the knowledge he was safe than carry the burden he died because of her.

And she didn't even realise how selfish or even hurtful that line of reasoning was. Not until the utter confrontation.

_Fenris will die Fenris will die Fenris will die_ ... _will die will die_ ... those words, uttered by that horrible creature while she and the ones with her were trapped in the Fade kept swirling through her mind and still scared the wits out off her. Even now, while safely sitting at a table in the Weisshaupt library, it nearly brought her to tears. He _had_ almost died because of her. It still shocked her to the core. _He will _not_ die_, she thought grimly and was even more satisfied with her decision to leave him behind in Kirkwall. To give him a chance to survive this madness. She looked at herself and saw an angel of death. Wherever she went, destruction followed. She pursed her lips. But not for him. Never for him. She loved him too much to let him throw his life away for her.

She rubbed her forehead and let out another sigh. She would gain nothing by dwelling on her feelings for Fenris besides an uncontrollable yearning and a bitter sense of loss. When this whole ordeal was over, she promised herself, she would go back to him and let every probably well-earned accusation and tongue-lash come over her. She could explain her motives. She would make him see ... _If_ this ordeal ever came to an end. _If_ they could defeat Corypheus. On the other hand, if not they would all perish and nothing would matter anymore. No! She mustn't think that way. They would win. They had to. But would her elf be able to forgive her? Would he even listen to her? She emptied her cup in one go. This was not the time to ponder that issue. It was another thought she had to abandon.

And once over she missed the one-sided vision in this particular reasoning. But then again, _everything_ considering Fenris brought her to irrational reasoning.

Instead she let her thoughts swirl back to the confrontation with the First Warden. The man might have reacted unruffled to the death of Clarel and Stroud, he actually had been furious about what happened at Adamant, though, to her astonishment not so much because they had made a pact with the Tevinters, or rather Corypheus through the Venatori, but far more because the Grey Wardens had become a part of the Inquisition. 'What the hell were they thinking!' he had fumed, 'Grey Wardens are supposed to fight darkspawn, not some crack in the sky! Let alone they should ally with those Chantry-lovers!'

And again Hawke had had a hard time not to whack him around the ears. But at least he had given her permission to stay and make use of the library. He even had offered her the use of a rather luxurious accommodation, a suite fit for a princess.

'Milady?'

She got ripped away from her dark contemplations by the librarian. He lightly touched her arm and she could just suppress the reflex of knocking him dead out. She sharply inhaled some air and forced herself to smile at the young man who had been as gallant and cooperative as to search for books and scrolls concerning Corypheus and red lyrium.

Milady. After all the years she still wasn't used to be nobility. Didn't care, to be frank. Nevertheless she conjured that disarming smile. 'Yes?'

'I'm sorry, Milady, but it's way past ten bells ...' his voice lingered and Hawke realized with sudden insight the pour young man must have had a sunny idea of going to the tavern and have a good time if it hadn't been for her keeping him in this dusty place for too long.

'No,' she retorted, 'I'm the one who is sorry. Go and have fun. I will retreat to my chambers.' She sent him a new though somewhat artificial smile which he nevertheless reciprocated with warm enthusiasm. She stood up and left the library to go to her personal rooms.

* * *

When she entered the bedroom she immediately got aware of the presence of someone else. And not just anyone. She froze. _This can't be true ..._ The room was lit by bright moonlight but even had it been pitch-dark she would just have felt him. The part of her that had incessantly reached out for him and she had fervently tried to smother, to no avail she knew all too well, now screamed out at the top of its lungs. The faint aroma of wild forest with a hint of sweet jasmine that always surrounded him entered her nostrils even though he was at the other side of the room and she knew it was more due to her senses working overdrive than she could smell his scent in reality. Damn. Involuntarily she got stopped in her tracks and stood as if turned to stone. For a short moment she was tempted to flee but she couldn't move.

He stood at the opened window, seemingly absentmindedly staring into the star sprinkled and moon filled night; he didn't even turn his head at the vague rumour she made while entering her private space. She easily recognized his features in the bright moonlight, (fuck it, even blindfolded she would have recognized them), the delicate way he held his head just a little askew, the form of his frame, his perfect chiselled face, his elegant hands resting on the window-sill. The full moon bathed him in white light and made his hair look like liquid silver. She drank it all in, like a thirsty traveller who had finally arrived at a much longed for tavern after a lengthy journey through a dry hostile country; but she still was shocked to the core and unable to react.

'_Fenris_,' she managed to breathe after long stretched moments.

How the hell had he managed to find her? And then she remembered Varric's injured, if not to say furious look. Of course. The dwarf would not have hesitated to reveal her hiding spot to her lover after what had happened in the Fade. Out of anger or fear or perhaps even out of some kind of revenge she couldn't tell but she should have seen it coming. She already opened her mouth to vent her annoyance or worries or whatever feeling that was trying to take her over when Fenris finally turned to her.

'Hawke,' he said, outwardly emotionless but the use of the surname spoke volumes. Her mouth snapped shut again. She wasn't exactly sure whether his strained posture resembled the icy cold of a glacier or the scorching heat of a volcano. She tried to brace herself against his next words or rather forestall them by giving a hasty and heated explanation of why she had left him and only then noticed the deep shadows under his eyes and the lines in his face that were evidence of infinite grief and suffering. The words died in her throat. She wanted to run to him to kiss away his sorrow but stood nailed to the ground.

'I thought we had a relation, a relation built on mutual respect and on trust,' he started with a soft voice, dark and slightly hoarse, a rough velvet voice coated with dark melted sugar that rasped down her spine, 'but it seems I was wrong and we are not of the same mind. Apparently _you_ don't trust me enough to let me be around you. Apparently your _dis_trust made you creep away like a thief in the night. Without any hint or warning.' He didn't sound angry, at least not yet. Instead there was a barely hidden sadness in his tone combined with – she couldn't describe it. Desolation? Agony? Disappointment?

It made her even more unable to react.

'Not a letter telling why you were gone, Hawke, not even a short note explaining why you walked out on me. Do you even comprehend how that made me feel? To discover I mean that little to you? That you don't love me anymore, that I can accept - ' He closed his eyes for a heartbeat and she could simply sense the effort with which he tried to check the expression of pain that rippled along his face. 'No, I won't lie to you.' A brief moment one of his hands formed a clenched fist before he forced his fingers to relax again. 'I cannot accept that but at least I can try to learn to cope with it. But that you found me unworthy to let me know your love for me has died, that rips me apart. So I am here to hear the words from your very mouth. Call it pathetic, but I need to hear the truth from yourself.'

Every word he spoke hit her like the lash of a whip. Her eyes grew wide with incredulity. How could he think she didn't love him anymore? Wasn't it so obvious she did? How could he question her deep feelings for him? She made an ultimate effort to pull herself together and took a deep breath. 'It is my love for you that drove me away.' She wanted to sound strong and convincing but to her frustration her voice came out weak and cracked.

He cocked his brow in disbelief. 'Really? And what kind of love might that be? How can you call something love when it devastates people? Have you any idea what your _love'_ (he almost spat the word) 'did to me?'

Finally she drew herself up. She straightened her shoulders and heaved her head in defiance. Despite that tough posture she felt her heart hammering in her chest. 'You made me promise not to die in the battle in the Gallows,' she blurted out, 'and then you yourself almost died! Because of me!' She clasped her hands together to keep them from trembling; the still all too vivid memory threatened to tear her apart once again.

He looked perplexed at her. 'Is that the reason why you fled in the middle of the night?'

'Yes.'

'Because I got injured trying to keep Meredith from killing you.' His voice sounded dangerously flat.

'Yes!'

'And that made you think you obtained the right to decide over my life.' He uttered the sentence as a kind of remote observation.

'I wanted to protect you!' It came out all wrong and she almost flinched at her own words. They sounded like an accusation.

'So you thought it would be a good idea to treat me as a feeble pampered defenceless toddler? You thought it best to run off without taking my feelings into consideration? You wanted to protect me by breaking me into pieces?!' And now a storm was brewing, shredding the deceivingly flatness from seconds before. 'That's brilliant,' he added sardonically.

'I can't live without you!' she desperately exclaimed in an ultimate attempt to make him see.

But Fenris scoffed derisively, 'Indeed. You obviously gave perfect witness of that sentiment during the past months.'

Despite her strong will now tears of frustration started running down her face. 'I don't want to lose you,' she cried, hating herself for it.

At those words Fenris got struck speechless and she took advantage of his sudden silence. Determinedly she wiped the irritating tears away. 'I don't want to lose you,' she repeated with emphasis, 'and I was so scared that would happen I left you in the safe hands of our friends.' He still seemed to be searching for an answer and for some reason or another she took it as a good sign. He would understand her. He had to_._ 'You almost died defending me and I couldn't let that happen again,' she stated firmly. 'I don't want to lose you,' she said once more, with less confidence this time, getting unsettled by his lasting lack of response.

He slightly bowed his head and brought a hand to his brow. His fingers ruffled through his moonlike and at the same time moon-kissed hair. She wished she could do that for him and again hoped desperately he now saw her point of view. _He has to_. But then he looked up at her and she almost staggered back. The pain in his eyes was palpable.

'Have you learned nothing?' His voice was just a whisper but a whisper filled with anguish. The rough velvet soaked with agony. She looked at him incomprehensively. He shook his head. The next words he spoke came down on her like a cold shower. 'About four years ago I left you. I don't need to tell you at what occasion.' He paused and swallowed. She just stared, captivated in his stern and at the same time sad gaze. 'It wasn't only because of my memories. You know that. It was mostly because I was too scared what we had wouldn't last. I told you that.'

He looked sharply at her and she couldn't but nod numbly. He _had_ told her that. And she had thought back then it was rubbish.

'I thought myself unworthy of you and I was certain you would grow weary of me the moment you'd find out I had nothing to offer. That I was but a slave, a nobody who didn't deserve your attention let alone your love.'

She got a nasty suspicion where this would lead to and wanted him to shut up. But he kept on talking without taking his intense eyes off of her. His beautiful silvery green confronting eyes.

'So I reasoned it was wiser to leave you before you decided you were better off without me. _Because I didn't want to lose you_.'

Although she had seen it coming, he might as well have slapped her in her face. She really, _really_ wanted him to shut up before she would turn into a puddle of guilt and misery. Her knees went wobbly and she had to hold on to the back of a chair to prevent she would sink on the floor.

'By now, of course, I know with that irrational argument I wounded you beyond compare,' he went on relentlessly, 'that I was a fool and a coward and squandered three precious years of both our lives with my – uncertainty. My inferiority complex.' He let out a mirthless short laugh. 'And now you're telling me you have made the same mistake.' After a few seconds he added, 'even though you found out to your own cost how much that hurt.'

Hawke recognized the harsh truth of his statement but didn't want to agree with him just like that. Instead she wanted to tell him about Corypheus, about the frightening mind crushing prophesy that horrible creature had told her, how it had amplified her already existing fear. She came no further than a rueful muttered, 'It was never my intention to hurt you.' It was a poor defence to say the best of it but it was all she could come up with. On second thought it was too difficult to talk about that monster.

Fenris tilted his head and gave her a wan tired smile. 'Neither was it mine four years ago.' He took a deep breath. 'I'm willing to believe you. I'm willing to believe you are as big an idiot as I have been although you of all people should have known better.'

She didn't reply. She couldn't. _Fenris will die and there's nothing you can do about it. Fenris will die, Fenris will die_ That cruel horrifying voice kept droning in her head. She knew it had just been a confrontation with her biggest dread and she had to ignore it but it was so very hard to do. She hung her head in remorse, fiddling with her fingers.

Fenris clenched his jaw and studied her intensely before he came to a conclusion. 'All right. I will give you one last chance. Either you marry me and give me your trust to face all the dangers life will throw at us side by side as husband and wife or I walk out of the gate of this impressive fortress and you will never see me again. It's your choice. I will give you some time to think it over but not too long. My patience can only go that far. You've stretched it enough as it is. I need to have your answer in the morning. Think carefully.' Before she could react he brushed passed her without even as much as casting her a look. She made a half-hearted attempt to grab his hand but missed and she was altogether too flabbergasted to stop him.

She expected him to sweep out of the room but suddenly he hesitated, lingering in the door opening; he turned but avoided looking at her. 'One more question. Just out of curiosity, when were you planning to tell me you have been willing to sacrifice yourself on behalf of the Templars?'

Hawke cringed. So the dwarf hadn't been satisfied enough to reveal her whereabouts to Fenris but also had to give him that painful piece of information. 'Oh Varric,' she grunted.

Fenris nodded. 'That's what I figured.' And he disappeared, leaving her completely forlorn. She stumbled to the bed and crashed down on the mattress, hiding her face in her hands. _He will never forgive me. _

Only then it drove home to her he had asked her to marry him. Or more or less had ordered her to.

* * *

Fenris stumbled into the hallway and leant heavily against the wall, with all his might trying to gather his wits. His breath went laboured and his blood rushed forcefully through his veins. Only with the utmost exertion he could prevent his markings to light up. Seeing her after all this time had been far more difficult to deal with than he already had thought up forehand. It had been so hard to restrain himself from pulling her into his arms his muscles ached with the effort. She claimed she loved him and though it had been hard to believe it, he couldn't deny she had looked completely shattered the moment it got through to her he had been convinced of the opposite.

He was confused and shaken and rattled to the bone. One part of him was annoyed with the – outwardly – steady and aloof composure he had shown her, another part was thankful for it. He didn't know what would have happened had he given in to his desire to hold her.

What she had told him made his head reel. _My love for you drove me away._ That one had puzzled him, alarmed him even - had he been too demanding? Too possessive? - until her next statement hit him. _I wanted to protect you_. He had understood that one. Grudgingly. And together all too well. Damn it. She had been so scared he would hurry to his death because of his burning urge to shield her, she had left him. Yes, he had stood on the brink of death although he hadn't been aware of it at the time. Was that the reason she'd fled? But before he had been given a chance to think it over she had come up with another one. A so familiar and at the same time crushing one, he hadn't been able to react for quite a while. _I don't want to lose you. _Oh yes, that feeling he could acknowledge. But it had been devastating to hear those words from her. Especially while beholding her trembling frame. And she had been trembling, not matter now hard she had tried to hide it. He had been wondering - still did - if it was his influence, if it had been his utterly stupid and absurd explanation for leaving her all those years ago that had driven her to her painful decision.

She had been as beautiful as he remembered she was. There had been small alterations though. Her eyes weren't that fierce and bright as they used to be. There had sneakily crept a kind of tiredness into her face he hadn't seen before; a fatigue that wasn't caused by mere lack of sleep. Her shoulders had slumped a little as if they had had to carry too much weight for too long. Had he done that to her? What had she gone through?

And then the last words he had let loose on her hit home. Had he really asked – no, commanded – her to marry him?! What the fuck had made him do that?! He nearly choked. He had given her an impossible choice. She would turn him down. She definitely would turn him down. Wouldn't she? Yes she would. What had he been thinking. What for the love of the Maker had he been thinking?! He _hadn't_ been thinking, that was the problem. He hadn't been able to. He flinched. Did he really want to marry her? Yes, if he was honest. Did she want to marry him? Probably not. Certainly not after the way he had - proposed. Extremely romantic. He grimaced forcefully. Bloody hell. He had made a mess of it. As usual.

In the midst of his roving and tangled and panicked contemplations he felt a flask being pushed into his hand and without even looking he took a deep draught. Whisky. Of course it was. The liquid burned in his throat and almost immediately relaxed the worst of his tensions. He sighed gratefully.

'It's your turn now,' he croaked exhausted, 'you started this, at this very moment she needs you.' He took another gulp of whisky. The feeling of guilt almost swept him away. 'But be prepared. She's a mess. Part of it my fault I'm afraid. Sorry for that.'

There sounded a little snigger. 'Don't be sorry. I like a challenge. I still have to find a damage I'm not able to repair.'

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**I originally planned this to be a one-shot but I'm still working on the second part and I grew impatient. I promise to post the rest of the story as soon as possible. That is, if you want me to. Feel free to let me know what you think about it!**

**Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I swear I originally planned this to be a one shot but as usual I got carried away. This isn't even the last part (don't hit me). I hadn't intended to post this today but again I grew impatient; besides that it has been two weeks already and I started to fear you thought I had forgotten about it altogether. Well I didn't. It just took me more time than I had calculated up forehand**

**Enjoy!**

Give me an answer part 2

The silver moon still shone over Weisshaupt Fortress; the cold rays distantly peeped through a convenient opened window set high in one of the sturdy granite walls and wandered over the tense frame of a woman lying on her stomach on a luxurious bed, her hands fisted in the blankets covering the mattress, holding fast to the fabric. To the casual observer it would seem the woman was asleep and at the very most caught in a bad dream that would be forgotten when she woke in the morning. But the casual observer would soon be proved to be wrong. Casual observers often missed the point.

Slowly Hawke sat up. She felt dizzy and disconcerted and desperately tried to clear her head to get things straight. It wasn't easy. In fact it was a lost battle up forehand. She felt completely off balance due to Fenris's sudden appearance, his rather haggard appearance. He had stood at the window like a spectre coming to haunt her conscience. Let alone the things he had said, had thrown into her face to be more specific, made her feel comfortable. In fact they still made her shudder. She only had wanted to protect him. _And that made you think you obtained the right to decide over my life_, Fenris's voice echoed in her head. She'd been terrified to lose him. _You of all people should have know better_, that same voice answered remorselessly. It was getting crowded in there, with Corypheus's droning threat as a permanent background noise. _Fenris will ..._ Shut up! Hawke screamed inwardly. She rubbed her brow and took a deep breath in a wretched attempt to collect her thoughts. The hand fell back in her lap and automatically connected with its twin. Without a thought her fingers entwined and desperately held on to each other. Hawke stared in the distance and wondered if she really had made a big mistake. The words Fenris had spoken weighted her down with heavy guilt but she only had had his wellbeing in mind – hadn't she? Or was it her own ..? Had she indeed been selfish as Fenris had claimed though never had said out loud? But she was certain she hadn't acted out of petty selfishness. The wriggling fingers broke free and turned into two firm fists. Maker knew she had suffered greatly from this self-inflicted separation. She simply had wanted him to live and not to die because of her. Gods, this was difficult.

Suddenly her swirling incoherent contemplations got interrupted by a new voice; thankfully this one didn't add to the already existing ones wreaking havoc in her head but nevertheless confused her even more. Another spectre from the past.

'Well well, look at you,' the voice remarked dryly though not without sympathy, 'I've seen sacks with drowned puppies that looked less pitiful than you do right now.'

With a jerk Hawke yanked her head up, ignoring the risk of a nasty whiplash, and came face-to-face with the person standing before her, a person who seemed to have materialised out of thin air. No way she could be here in the flesh. Hawke blinked but the person persisted to exist. As usual the owner of this new though well-known voice radiated a kind of sultry merriment as if too much wanton sex-appeal had been cramped into one body which got accentuated by her tanned exotic beauty, hardly touched by the years and recent occurrences. Though crowned with some kind of outrageous hat this time. Hawke paid no attention to that detail – for the moment. 'Isa ... Isabela?' she managed to stutter.

'The very same,' the pirate beamed broadly.

'But, but I thought you were out on the seas, roaming the waves, pirating, looting,' Hawke stuttered some more.

With a grunt Isabela plopped down in a chair. 'Is that the story Varric told you? The mean short-legged bastard, wish it were true. I even bought the fitting hat in anticipation, an Admiral's hat,' she hinted frustrated at the contraption balancing on her head, carrying more plumes than a horde of full-grown male ostriches. 'I even had the crew ready and contracted several captains to form a fleet.'_ Forced them into submission you mean,_ Hawke thought with wicked glee until Isabela's next forbidding words made her alert. 'But certain events kept me in Kirkwall, or better the idiotic behaviour of a certain elf did.' Isabela paused and looked at Hawke with dark piercing eyes. 'We have to talk, sweetness. Urgently.'

* * *

Fenris had set himself to the task of meticulously cleaning and oiling his gear; everything was better than roving about his room like a madman or a caged animal, desperately waiting for the outcome of "the little chat" as Isabela had called the conversation between her and Hawke. In his opinion that "little chat" was the thin line between keeping the purpose to live on or losing the drive altogether and he fervently tried not to think about the consequences should the tête-à-tête go wrong. He was grateful the pirate queen had been willing to accompany him to this grim place, as a matter of fact it had been her idea. He doubted if he would have accomplished to even enter the fortress without her. For one reason or another the First Warden had been in a terrible foul mood and at first hadn't even wanted to receive them. But Isabela had charmed her way past the guardsmen at the front gate, had done the same with the ones standing firm as proud statues at the First Warden's office and in no time had wound the commander himself around her little finger. The man had stood no chance whatsoever and had granted them the honour of being his guests as long as they wished. Fenris grimaced sardonically. The First Warden undoubtedly thought the pirate queen would warm his bed the coming night and he probably wasn't wrong. Behind his sour and reproachful mask he was good-looking in a stern masculine kind of way and Isabela had bedded lesser men.

Hawke, however, wouldn't be so easily distracted. While his hands automatically busied themselves with rubbing the oil into the leathers of his armour he again played their strained encounter in his head. He had tried to be as calm and patient as possible but he feared he had done a poor job. He doubted he had got through to her. She had been upset enough already and he had done nothing but enlarge her distress. In hindsight it maybe had been better to take her into his arms and kiss her senseless as he so eagerly had wanted to do. His next violent stroke with the oil-drenched cloth almost broke a buckle and the metal tore open the skin of his knuckles. He didn't notice. No. It could well be she'd have started kicking and screaming in the state she was in and he knew for sure he would have lost his self-control. A flare of anger hit him, aimed at both her and himself. She had wounded him, hard, but even after everything he had told her he suspected she didn't understand what exactly she had caused. Worse even, he had got the impression she wasn't _willing_ to understand. So, in a desperate last try, he had forced her hand by proposing to her. If you could call it that. _Marry me or else._ Idiot he had been. He groaned out loud.

* * *

At the same time Hawke shouted indignantly, 'Why did Varric tell him?! He shouldn't have told him!'

'Because you apparently have absolutely no inkling of what you're about to let slip through your fingers,' Isabela replied tetchily, 'and even less what you made your elf go through. So I'm here to explain. What did Fenris say to you?'

Amongst all the things the elf had said, one sentence suddenly sprung to the surface of Hawke's tortured mind.

'He asked me to marry him,' she muttered. Well, _asked_ was perhaps not a sufficient expression in this particular situation but she was still too flabbergasted to pay heed to that little detail.

For a moment Isabela seemed at a loss for words but then she parried with practised ease. 'The nerve! I can see you must be highly offended by such an insult!'

Defiantly Hawke stuck out her chin and bristled. 'Not offended! I'm confused! No, overwhelmed. Bewildered. Dazzled,' she ended lamely, slumping again as if drained by her meagre display of self-defence.

'I assume you haven't answered his question yet?' Some eagerness had slipped into the pirate's voice. She really had come with Fenris to help but a little intrigue and gossip couldn't hurt to make the trip more pleasurable. Maker knew it had been challenging enough thus far with that grumpy, gloomy, brooding if not completely desolated elf at her side.

'What am I suppose to say?!' Hawke threw back in the meantime, 'I don't want him to perish because of me!' she cried out in distraught, 'and when I'm his wife he will put even more effort in keeping me from harm!' She had jumped up and agitated began to pace the room.

Outwardly unperturbed Isabela let her words sink in. She tapped her lips with her index finger as if trying to compose an answer. Finally she said, 'Listen to me Hawke,' – the "Hawke" part should have been a warning but at the moment it escaped her – 'for more than six years Fenris has stuck to you like glue because he wanted to protect you and you put up with it without a complaint. But when it suddenly dawned on you he could actually _die_ doing that, you panicked and abandoned him.'

The pirate queen sounded irritated which only kindled Hawke's annoyance. She turned sharply. 'I did _not_ abandon him,' she bit exasperated.

Isabela cocked her head. 'No? In my book is not being allowed to be _with_ the one you love _by_ the one you love practically on the same level as being abandoned by that very person.' Irritation was turning into anger very swift. There had been things she had been forced to handle Hawke didn't have a clue about. Awful things, things far beyond her normal easy-going and loose grasp of ethics. Beyond her careless philosophy of live and let live. (Or live and let die if it concerned some irksome low-lives who stood in her way.) So, in a flash of vengeance, she mercilessly pressed on, 'Oh, and speaking about dying: your elf nearly got himself killed twice in the last ferocious battle against slavers. And I speak only about that last fight, mind you. He may not be one to commit suicide, you know his view upon the matter, but it damn well looked like it the way he hurled himself into the fray. He definitely was seriously trying to end his life in the only manner he saw fit. I can only hope that was not your intent.' With some satisfaction she observed the other woman's shocked reaction. Good. It seemed she had touched the right nerve.

Horrified Hawke stared at her. 'He did what?' she croaked. Abruptly she sat down again on the bed, not trusting her sudden unstable legs.

Isabela took a look at her and sighed, trying to curb her woken anger. Right nerve or not, it wouldn't help the situation if she crushed Hawke. Her expression softened. 'You see, sweetness,' she started conversationally, 'you may not want him ending up dead, but apparently he's of a whole different opinion. You have no idea what we went through after your departure. He never has been the most cheerful type of person, although I admit he did have a whole unique kind of humour, and you could just but adore his smile, let alone his unexpected sudden laugh. Especially with that hypnotizing voice.' She was silent for a moment, swooning over the sweet memory and then became serious again. 'But after you left I haven't been able to catch him on a slightest smile even once. If he could have brood himself to death he would have done so. He locked himself in that horrible mansion of his and spent his days and nights drinking himself into a permanent stupor. What certainly could have been another way to end his life hadn't he become too resilient to alcohol I fear. You don't know how many times we, that is Aveline, Merrill and I, sneaked in to find out whether he was still alive. And found him unconscious draped over a chair or curled up in a ball before the cold hearth.' Again her voice climbed the ladder of fury at the sheer memory, she couldn't help herself. She narrowed her eyes. 'And I can't even recall how many times we chased after him when he for the umpteenth time raced off to fight slavers in that uncanny "I want to die" way he had adopted. So we could support him and prevent him of getting mortally injured. Aveline had ten guardsmen permanently watching him in case he would do something stupid again. Ten! To be honest, Varric's letter came as a relief to us all. It shook Fenris back to life. Because he became furious, you understand. As a matter of fact we all became furious. What the hell were you thinking, willing to sacrifice yourself for – ' Abruptly she cut herself off. 'If you really want to save him, you dim-witted excuse for a woman, you go right to him, accept his proposal and stay with him for the rest of your sorry life.' She stopped talking and glared angrily at Hawke sitting on the bed. The former Champion of Kirkwall stared dumbstruck back.

After a few heartbeats Hawke murmured defeated, 'I've never seen you like this.'

'No,' Isabela snarled heatedly, 'because you never gave me a reason before. But your thoughtless decision left me no other choice than to look after the man you claim to love to prevent him from the fate you _abandoned_ him for in the first place. And the Maker and all the Dalish Gods know I hate babysitting. So, after that blissful letter, I suggested we'd travel to Weisshaupt to confront you with all the mess you stirred up. Don't forget Fenris was convinced you left him because you didn't love him anymore.'

Hawke's eyes flew open and she roared back to live. 'He mentioned that but it's not true!' she all but yelled.

Isabela fluttered her hands vehemently to quieten Hawke down who stood on the brink of desperate combustion, 'Yes, yes I believe you! Don't go up in holy flames! Let me finish!'

Hawke sagged down again, hardly being able to hold back the tears that threatened to overflow her eyes.

Isabela scratched the back of her head. She took off her outrageous hat and tapped the rim thoughtfully against her naked thigh. She wanted to stay angry but it was very difficult while taking in an utterly distressed Hawke. 'I've always been convinced you loved Fenris. Bloody hell! After he left you four years ago for whatever stupid reason, you two have been dancing around each other like a couple of teenagers in heat too timid to express their feelings. And after that incredible arrogant and creepy former master of his was put out of the way, I was convinced, we all were convinced, you were reunited forever. A match made in heaven,' she added sarcastically. She studied Hawke's face. The woman looked devastated. Time to push her over the last threshold. 'But then the battle in the Gallows courtyard happened and you went completely crazy,' she concluded, 'at least that's the only reason I can come up with to explain your idiotic choice to cowardly run away and leave us to cope with the jumble you left behind.' She smiled thinly. 'But you see, sweetness, by doing that, you've accomplished exactly the opposite of what you wanted to achieve.'

Hawke was still searching for words. She had to admit she never had thought her abrupt and rather desperate decision to leave Fenris in the middle of that fateful night would lead to this outcome. To so much misery. Nervously she wriggled her fingers.

'It didn't take much convincing to drag Fenris to this bleak fortress,' Isabela went on, 'y_ou_ were here after all. Reason enough for him to let everything drop out of his hands. I told him he could get answers. Or at least an answer to his most pressing question.' Isabela paused for a moment. 'You _were_ serious when you said you still love him, I hope?' She suddenly sounded insecure. 'Because if not I'm wasting my time here.'

And then Hawke violently burst into tears.

'Finally,' Isabela murmured relieved. She stood from her chair and sat next to Hawke on the bed, tossing her extravagant hat on the floor. The plumes gently wove in the soft breeze as a subtle kind of thumbs up. She tapped her friend on the back. 'Here here,' she said soothingly, 'it's not the end of the world.'

'I never wanted this,' Hawke howled, spluttering tears and snot around.

'I know, sweetness, I know,' Isabela told her cheeringly, 'you just weren't thinking. But it's not too late to repair the damage you've done.'

'How?' Hawke wailed, 'he will never forgive me!'

Isabella grinned broadly. 'He might surprise you. And I assume he doesn't want to marry you out of spite.' Although I wouldn't put it past him, she almost added jokingly but just in time managed to swallow back those last words in case Hawke would take it bad. The woman wasn't exactly in the joking mood at the moment. When the worst of the sobbing was over she said, 'let's make an attempt to tidy you up as best we can, shall we. You cannot face your fiancée all blotched and tear-stained.' Too weak to protest Hawke let her wash her face with water from the ewer sitting on a small side table and untangle her dishevelled hair. 'There, much better,' Isabela said satisfied.

'But what am I supposed to tell him?' Hawke objected feebly when Isabela was done fussing about her appearance.

'Shoosh, silly, stop worrying. Just say yes and everything will be all right.'

Hawke wasn't convinced so after the pirate queen had left she started lighting some candles to busy herself with something not totally lethal while passing the time.

* * *

In the meantime Fenris had thrown his armour aside because he had grown too impatient to give it real attention. Besides that he had mainly succeeded in breaking the skin of his hands on obstinate metal buckles with his fervent sweeps. When he discovered he was rubbing more blood than oil into the delicate and costly leather he realized he should forego the chore before he had completely ruined the material. Instead he removed his shirt and took up his sword; he fell into the well-known fighting stance that came automatically to him. It was almost comforting to incessantly repeat the familiar steps and swings; he fluidly moved around the room like a ballet dancer, be it a deadly and heavily armed ballet dancer. It was the perfect way to work off his tension; he should have thought about it sooner. He was so absorbed in his activity he didn't notice Isabela entering the guestroom; he nearly decapitated her and she could just avoid the dangerous blade by ducking rapidly. Fenris dropped his sword. 'Sorry,' he breathed.

'No excuse necessary,' Isabela grinned, delighted with the unexpected treat. With hot and hungry eagerness she drank in the elf's muscled naked torso that was covered with a thin sheet of sweat. Gods, he looked – tasty. And the elegant white lyrium lines swirling along his tanned skin weren't hurting her view either. It was impossible to imagine Hawke had been willing to leave all this behind. Ignorant ungrateful woman. This was some picture to cling onto while she was amusing herself with the First Warden the coming night. She sighed reluctantly when Fenris put on his shirt again.

He turned and looked at her expectantly and fearfully at the same time. If not pleading. The pirate smiled reassuringly back. 'Go ahead, handsome, the lady is all yours. Just be gentle.'

* * *

**Beside Varric (and of course Fenris) Isabela has always been my favourite character in Dragon Age 2. She's much more complicated that it seems to the inattentive eye and is such a joy to play with. I couldn't resist or ignore her existence.**

**In the next (and last, cross my heart etc.) chapter you'll find out why I M-rated this story so stay tuned!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I apologize for all the mistakes I make but please keep in mind English is not my natural language and I don't have a beta. So I just soldier on, blundering along the way.**

**And, yes, I ought to die because I crossed my heart and so on and still this is not the last chapter. Forgive me, but it would go on too long. (By now you should think I know my flaws!) I apologise for the ones who were looking out for the smut. Next time, I do promise.**

**Nevertheless, enjoy ... I hope**

* * *

Give me an answer part 3

Despite Isabela's encouraging words Fenris ambled with legs that seemed to be made out of lead through the gloomy corridors of the Grey Warden fortress. The distance between his quarters and Hawke's wasn't that far but her rooms seemed miles away while he was trying to cover the space. And not only because he feared the encounter that awaited him. The second with her this night and undoubtedly an even more trying one. What the hell was he supposed to say to her this time? What had Isabela done? Had she really accomplished to calm Hawke down, make her compliant, perhaps just changed her ridiculous hallucination about losing him? He wished he had taken the time to ask the pirate queen for more details than "the lady is all yours, just be gentle", but she more or less had pushed him out of the door. Probably eager to throw herself at the First Warden, he thought sourly, not that he doubted the man would be more than eager to give in to her blunt exposure.

The exercise with his sword had been a welcome diversion but only now he realized it also had brought up a considerable amount of adrenaline. To his dismay the side effect was he now felt wound up which rapidly was growing into nervousness and even anger. Although he was well aware of the fact the anger just disguised his insecurity. He was scared. _Scared_. Damn. He almost stumbled and instinctively his hand shot out to the wall. He hold on to the rough masonry while he tried to even out his ragged breath. He attempted to keep his dark memories at bay but failed. Oh Maker, Gods, those blasted memories ... it seemed his whole existence rotated around the ones he couldn't recall and the ones he fervently wanted to forget. And that night, that one insane night represented both.

He had been struggling for three precious years to work up the courage before he was able to tell Hawke how much he cared for her. He had distrusted and again trusted her the very moment they met; it had been an overture of an – extremely complicated relation to say the least of it. Yes, that probably covered it all: the combination of trust and the always lingering distrust even though during the passing time the latter feeling had shifted from how he saw her to doubting himself. He had been consumed by his fear of giving himself without a second thought, the fear of making a mess of it, the fear of turning against her like he had done with the Fog Warriors, and most of all the fear of losing her. He had been certain, back then, it would be a matter of mere time until she would find out he was useless, that he could offer her nothing but his broken past and mangled mind and she would reject him. And yet he had gone to her because he hadn't been able to hold back any longer, because his longing for her had overruled the call of common sense, the warning it would become a disaster. Because he had snapped. It had led to –

To that one brilliant magnificent night, that night he finally gave himself to her, that one night he was able to forget the predicament of his life of slavery that had depicted him as a nobody with always simmering feelings of anxiety, hate and fury just below the surface. That very night was still stamped in his mind as a memory to treasure, even after he went and ruined it all. After that significant night, and he still carried a pallet full of very colourful and very conflicting emotions about what happened, even now, it had taken again three even more strained years before the suffocating shackles finally had been broken. It hadn't come easy. Even killing his former master hadn't at first given him the peace of mind and inner freedom he so desperately had desired; after it was done he had felt like a brittle shell filled with hatred and gone sour revenge and finally remorse, ready to shatter into pieces. Until she walked into his room and told him he wasn't alone and, to his infinite happiness and astonishment, told him she still cared deeply for him and hoped they would stay together. To his own amazement he only then had found out his self-image had unnoticeable but considerably changed over the past years and slowly but certain had turned into confidence and self-esteem. Not in the least because she had never left his side and in her own silent way had shown and convinced him he was an unique and wonderful person with lots of great qualities who had much to give and share. After that had got through to him he had let go of all brooding thoughts and bitter reasoning and had plunged into a warm bath of pure bliss. She had been more than willing to take his hand and jump with him. For the first time in his life he had truly been relaxed and had experienced real happiness. And then disaster struck; Kirkwall got torn apart, he got injured and she disappeared and all the warmth and brightness had dissolved into despair once more. This time she had left _him, _ironicallyfor the same reason he had left her that night, and by now he knew how much it hurt to be the abandoned one. In his consuming desolation he had very hard tried to convince himself she had acted like a spoiled girl that had been craving for a trinket and got bored with it the moment she finally had it in her grasp. Especially when the trinket broke not long after, he had thought with grim sarcasm.

Then again he had been the first to admit the picture of a spoiled girl didn't suit Hawke at all – she had gone through great efforts and worked hard to achieve her goal and worked even harder to gain his trust. Even after he had shattered her she had supported him with all the love and patience she could muster; hardly the behaviour of a spoiled girl. Besides that she had known about loss and grief. And had shared her own grief with him. So many she held dear were lost to her. Was it any wonder she was crushed by his seemingly inevitable death?

But then he straitened his shoulders. No! That was no excuse to leave him – to leave him devastated. If she really loved him, as she insisted, she should have stayed. Especially after all they had gone through together. He drew a deep breath to calm down. She _had_ told him she still loved him, he had to believe that was true; it was the only hope he could cling to but it was a strong one.

Nevertheless he only reluctantly crossed the threshold of Hawke's suite, not knowing what kind of situation he would stumble upon. He found her standing at the same window where he had been waiting for her not an hour before. She avoided his scrutinizing eyes and fumbled aimlessly with the hem of the elegant silk tunic she wore over a pair of loose linen trousers. But even in the dim light he noticed she looked insecure if not frightened; in fact she resembled a cornered animal ready to flee at the first hint of danger. He felt as awkward as four years back when he had been about to break her heart and just like then a pang of guilt hit him like the merciless steel of a crossbow bolt_. Say something, you jackass._ He took a step forward. 'I apologise,' he said softly, 'I put too much pressure on you. I never should have -'

'No,' she interrupted him in a small, timid voice, 'I am the one who has to apologise, not you. You have done nothing wrong but I've been acting like, like,' she made an impotent gesture with her hand. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered. She started fumbling again, this time with a loose thread hanging from the cuff of her sleeve. _If she keeps fiddling like that she will unravel the whole piece of delicate lace in no time_, he couldn't help thinking absentmindedly. 'I hope you can forgive me but I'll understand if you can't,' she continued in that same disarming tone. He didn't doubt for a second _she_ didn't comprehend how disarming she exactly was at this very moment. To make things worse she now looked up and gave him a sad fleeting smile. The streaks in her face made clear she had been crying; in fact she looked at the end of her tether. 'I'll accept your verdict.'

The last derivate of his worked-up anger dissolved in an instant. He crumbled and for a moment wanted nothing but to rush over to her and haul her into his arms. But he restrained; she _had_ hurt him and although he didn't want her to pay for it, he _did_ want her to recognise what she had made him endure. And to be honest at the same time he was still afraid for her reaction. She made such a devastated and distressed impression she might as well panic or get a fit of hysterics if he approached her. And thus he kept his distance albeit with difficulty.

Verdict, what an ugly word. What was she thinking?! That he was some kind of stern emotionless judge – or worse, a cold cruel Magister?

Instead of embracing her, he tried to set her at ease and even made an attempt at humour. Though the moment the words left his mouth he knew she would interpret them wrong. 'You already heard my verdict,' he replied, 'I've sentenced you to become my wife. And I told you before you have till tomorrow to give me an answer to that – request.' She flinched and he wanted to slap himself. Stupid reaction to her tentative and meek remark. And then she spoke words that almost spooked him.

She hung her head again and uttered the expression that had occurred to her a while ago and had stuck on since then. 'I'm not worthy of you. I will only put you into danger.' He already was composing an answer when she added, leaving him thunderstruck, 'I'm an angel of death.' In her dumbness she sounded so sincere she frightened the living daylight off him.

'You – _what_?' With shocked bafflement Fenris stared at her. What kind of rubbish had Isabela been feeding her?

But before he could react coherently she started some kind of monologue in a flat tone that couldn't hide the pain deep down. 'I witnessed my brother being smashed into a bloody pulp by an ogre without me doing anything about it, my sister died in the Deep Roads because of my ambitions, my mother was – desecrated by that monster and I came too late to prevent it because I had better things to do; the whole of Kirkwall ended up in an awful mess –'

'Stop that,' he interrupted her hoarsely, 'you're uttering but a load of gibberish.'

She didn't heed his words but droned monotonous on. 'So many people died at my hands, because of my deeds, my decisions; _you_ almost died due to my failures. Even the current disaster is my doing; I freed Corypheus from his prison and set it all into motion. Where I go death and destruction follow.'

'I said, stop that!' Fenris repeated vehemently but she still didn't listen.

'And even though I left you I couldn't shelter you from danger,' she went on, '_because_ I left you, you ... you tried to kill yourself. Again a wrong decision.' Her words were nothing more than a whisper by now, accompanied by a small sob.

'What makes you think ...'

'Isabela told me what you went through.'

Inwardly he cringed and then wanted to explode. He would strangle that pirate bitch at the first opportunity. 'And we all know how she likes and intends to exaggerate.' To his own amazement he managed to sound perfectly calm. 'So, will you now listen to me for a change instead of trying to convince me you're the most dangerous and deadly woman in Thedas?'

She looked up again, a mix of misery and hope in her eyes. 'Haven't you heard what I said?'

'I heard every word and every single one was plain nonsense.' He looked intensely at her and continued, 'I will spare you the details of our history for you are as familiar with them as I am, but, for heaven's sake, do apprehend you are the one who pulled me out of the swamp of self-pity, self-loath, self-doubt and a lot more selves with negative additives and made me into the person I am today. A person with,' he smiled briefly, 'self-confidence and self-esteem and above all the capability to love unconditionally without any worries whatsoever, to love _you_.' He paused for a moment and took her in. She stared breathlessly back. 'And you of all people must know that is no small feat. Hardly the work of an angel of death.' Again he allowed himself a short smile. 'You're the most wonderful woman I ever met and I'm not the only one of that opinion.' He heaved his hand when she tried to speak. 'No, let me finish. I don't know where you got that ridiculous idea you are responsible for all the chaos and madness in the world but it makes no sense at all. Yes, I can understand it is difficult to cope with the deaths of your family, but, for the love of the Maker, stop blaming yourself because there is no reason at all to do so. You forget you saved more persons than you let perish. And about the situation in Kirkwall, you could as well have tried to prevent the sun from rising or the wind from blowing. Between the determined way both Meredith and Orsino were set on destroying the peace and wipe the city away there was nothing you could have done. _Quit. Feeling. Responsible_,' he ended his tirade with emphasis.

His words washed over her as a cleansing shower but she wasn't ready to give in just like that. 'Corypheus,' she mumbled as some kind of feeble though stubborn protest. Because that experience still lingered along as some very nasty uninvited skeleton in the closet.

At this time Fenris almost combusted with impatient anger but he reined in the worst of his heated emotions. 'What about him? We all agreed he had to be put down. And for all we knew we slew him; it's no-one's fault he rose from the apparent death to pester the world. Let alone yours.'

'My father –'

'Yes,' Fenris scoffed, 'it runs in the family to unleash monsters upon the world. Undoubtedly that was the next nonsense you wanted to blurt out. Your father had his own, in my eyes very legitimate reasons to oblige the Grey Wardens, and the only thing you can hold against him is he didn't tell you about it. But then again, how could he have known you would be confronted by his deeds.' He paused to take a gulp of air and to smother the uprising sudden flare of fury. 'We all thought we made the right decision.' He scowled at her as to challenge her to waylay him.

'He told me you would die,' Hawke murmured nearly audible, 'I mean, when I was in the Fade, Corypheus, he, he said you would die like all the others I wasn't able to protect.'

'And you fell for that?' Fenris reacted incredulous.

'He was very persistent. And with that mocking arrogant voice ... he convinced me.' She shivered at the memory.

'Marian, everyone dies one day,' Fenris said with a sigh, 'you can't even state he wasn't right. He made only use of your fear. Did he mention when exactly I would draw my final breath?' She didn't answer. 'That's what I figured.' Her confession made a lot of things clear; not why she had left him, but at least why she made that impulsive decision to sacrifice herself in the Fade. At that time she really was convinced everyone she cared about was lost or, in the case of Varric, would benefit from her action. He couldn't even start to imagine what kind of ordeal she had gone through. He didn't know what to say anymore. He felt drained. He looked at her and decided he would leave it to her. If she didn't understand him now, he would give up.

Hawke leant against the window-sill, trying with all her might to consume Fenris's heated arguments. To make an effort to deal with all his words; her head was reeling with the attempt to work out the information he had given her. She was quiet for several minutes, letting it all sink in; and then she felt her mind finally clear. One piece stuck out like a glittering gemstone in grubby mud. The capability to love – to love _her_ no less. Even after all the misery she had put him through he still loved her. And had made the effort to travel all the way to Weisshaupt to tell her so. Corypheus could go and choke on his own harsh prophesy on her account. Fenris wouldn't die; at least not now and not because of her. He had given her a lot to think about. As a matter of fact, he had given her space to breathe freely; he had lifted the unbearable weight of guilt from her shoulders. It was as if his words were a bright refreshing breeze, chasing away the dark looming clouds and allowing the sun to warm her with radiant beams. She looked at the past months and wondered why she had been such a blind wandering idiot, drowning in her self-made bleak reality. A reality that had been just a dark nightmare of her own doing.

She left the window and took a small hesitant step. There was one more issue to deal with.

'About your proposition ...'

Fenris cocked one eyebrow. 'My proposition?'

'Your, er, proposal.' She gave him a dithering smile. 'I don't have to wait till tomorrow with the answer. I will be proud to call myself you wife. If you still will have me.'

He shot her his trademark lopsided smile in return. 'Do you think I'm that fickle? There's nothing I want more than to have you back in my life and in my arms.'

She wanted to run to him, wrap her arms around him, to crush him, to feel his presence as close as could be, but he stilled her with just one word, spoken in such a hoarse, rough near shredded velvet voice she couldn't but obey.

'No.'

She gasped, paralysed for the moment; she couldn't reconcile this reaction with the one not moments before. After all the things he had said to her to lift her from the deep black pit she had fallen in did he now reject her? For some heavy heartbeats icy cold fear threatened to overwhelm her. Was this his revenge for all she had let him suffer? But then she realized his expression had nothing to do with revenge but everything with warm dedication.

'Don't move, just stay still,' he said quietly, 'let me.'

He walked over to her while she stood silent, unable to stir.

He let his hand hover not an inch from her face, she could feel the warmth radiating from his palm and fingers but he didn't touch her. 'I want to savour this moment,' he whispered, 'I've been hungering for you for so long. I want to have all of you but I want to take it slow.'

'Please don't,' she croaked pleadingly, 'we have all night to take it slow. Right now I want you so badly.'

A short smile flashed along his lips. 'No,' he repeated, 'this moment is too important. Too sacred.'

He let his hand drop and just looked at her but in such an intense and captivating way it made her shiver. 'Fenris,' she whispered.

He smiled again and reached out to the ribbons that held her silk tunic together. Without taking his eyes from her he slowly unlaced them until the fabric pooled around her shoulders. Gently he dragged the tunic down her arms and unfastened her breast band in the same smooth motion. She expected him to take possession of her but instead he stepped back and took her in.

And still she was unable to move or even utter a word. She just stared at him. Mesmerized.

'You're so beautiful,' he murmured. Again he approached her. He closed his eyes and let his hands move in the air, trailing the outsides of her body, again not an inch from her yearning skin. She, in response, also closed her eyes and let the strange but tantalizing sensation take hold of her. This time his markings lit up faintly and she underwent the electric marvel of his adoration so close by. She could feel his touch though he never once even let the tips of his fingers make contact with her body. She could feel his warmth, the enticing soft radiation of his lyrium just a hairbreadth away from her tingling skin, caressing her through the small space but never touching her, driving her insane with ecstasy and desire. He just followed the curve of her shoulders, moved down along her arms and cupped her naked breasts. Eventually he pulled the tunic down her hips, to let the garment pool around her feet, still without touching her. His nimble fingers unfastened the belt of her loose linen trousers and let the fabric slide down. His hands ghosted along her legs and slowly went up, gliding over her inner thighs, closing in on her thirsting centre but spiralling away at her involuntary gasp.

'I want to worship you,' he said silently, 'you are worth every second of my attention, every breath I take, every beat of my heart.'

Hawke was unable to reply; her vocal cords seemed to be caught up in a knot.

Then his fingertips finally brushed her face in the lightest of touches; it brought such a forceful thrill through her body it almost gave her an orgasm.

'I failed you,' she was close to tears by now, 'I hurt you. I don't deserve your love.'

And suddenly, without warning, he took her in a breathtaking embrace and swept her away with a devastating kiss. 'You are worth everything,' he uttered huskily, leaving her completely enthralled.

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**Alright, no real smut but an overture I guess.**

**Thank you for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

Give me an answer chapter 4

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After Fenris had taken possession of Hawke's mouth in the most crushing and mind-boggling way possible, he stepped back once again and looked at her in the soft light of the candles she had lighted and the cool one of the moon, still playing the voyeur through the opened window. He panted slightly, his pupils were near black. She almost stumbled at the loss of his demanding tongue and arms and imagined she must look flustered and at least a bit disappointed he had left her longing body alone once more. The moment he regained his distance, she felt the cold creeping in. Nevertheless she said teasingly, 'I thought you wanted to take it slow.' She realised she sounded hoarse, if not completely forlorn, and only half succeeded in keeping the tremble out of her voice. Fenris, on his turn, pretended not to take note of her predicament. He persevered in keeping that maddening blank expression. _Maddening indeed. Damn it._

Only moments later she understood that the blank expression was just her interpretation. Her personal explanation of why he again had taken his distance and hid his true feelings behind that stoic mask. With sudden insight she comprehended it was her own fear playing cruel tricks on her mind. The fear he would reject her after what she had done to him. The fear that had almost risen to panic at the moment she thought he had come for vengeance. His heated, near desperate kiss, had had nothing to do with vengeance whatsoever. Unless he wanted to punish her with passion. Which would be quite alright with her. So yes, it _was_ her warped interpretation. Now that was clear to her, she noticed he might have taken a step back and tried to stick with his adopted aloof air, but looked at her with such smouldering eyes it shot hot bolts through her already shivering innards. _You are as scared as I am_, she thought, _and as wound up and – aroused._

As to give evidence to her frantic thoughts he said, 'I do. I want to take it slow. But you're making it very difficult, looking as beautiful and tasting as good as you do.'

What was left of her insides, now got squishy due to his voice that had taken that low gravelly timbre that made her whole being resonate. Crushed stones covered with bitter-sweet dark chocolate, a serrated edge of an obsidian dagger dripping with wild tart-tasting honey, the lowest string of a lute vibrating with hot sex. Gods, if he sounded even more wanting, her knees would give way and she would fall before him on the ground, begging him to take her.

'I already thought my idea was better,' she managed with some effort. Her voice almost failed her. In fact the words came out like an incomprehensible hoarse grumble. Nevertheless he understood. Of course he did.

'Don't tempt me woman.' If possible he sounded even more crushing and breathtaking. She made a little step forward but his hand shot out and he grabbed her wrist in a firm grip to prevent her from coming too close. 'I don't want to pounce upon you like some wild animal.'

_Why not? Please do._

'I wouldn't object,' Hawke said huskily. Immediately she felt the grip on her wrist fasten.

Fenris glowered at her. 'I _said_, don't tempt me,' he as good as growled which only made it worse. _Bitter-sweet chocolate, wild honey, low tones in cadence with the beating of my heart, sawing through my essence. Please stop. Please _don't_ stop._

Hawke very hard tried to suppress a feverish shiver, especially when the elf let his eyes glide heatedly over her as good as naked body with a hunger he couldn't hide. But still, to her growing frustration, he kept his self-control. They stared at each other for a while, caught in a strange kind of deadlock with an undertone of hardly confined erotic pulsations, until Hawke decided to change her tactics and try another form of seduction. 'I think I'm at a disadvantage here,' she pouted. Fenris just raised one dark eyebrow, to her disappointment never letting go of her wrist. 'I'm standing in hardly my smallclothes, well, to be frank only dressed in my _very_ smalls, and you are still fully dressed. I feel exposed, I don't think it's fair. Not fair at all.'

'Life isn't fair,' Fenris replied with a little smirk, obviously seeing right through her intention, 'and you owe me one.'

She cocked her head. 'Just one?' she said sweetly.

Fenris gave her a faint lopsided smile. He reached out but despite her hopes he just took a lock of her hair and twirled it around the fingers of his free hand, while he seemingly absent-mindedly kept a strong hold on the wrist he had locked minutes before. He let those same soft, yet again enticing, fingers trail along her face. She could feel the tension radiating from his still slightly ignited fingertips and wondered how much she would be able to take before she would simply consume him. Or he her, when it came down to it. But even now he succeeded in maintaining his infuriating self-discipline. 'Stop playing the role of the ignorant child-wife, Marian, it doesn't suit you.'

At this very moment she was very much willing to play the role of the ferocious high Dragon if that would help. (Always some vicious She-menace, those things, come to think about it. It was perhaps a silly comparison but by lack of a better description it had to do. After all, it was the "She-part" that counted). Anything to drag him into more bolder actions than toying with her hair and caressing her face. But a small voice at the back of her head let out a warning. _Don't force him. Let him make the decision. He's on edge, you know this. _Another small voice responded sarcastically,_ and you're trying to tell you are _not_ on edge? Pull the other one. Wake up bitch, you're as strained as he is._

She recognised the wisdom of the little voice, of both of them; nevertheless she said throatily, 'Is this meant as some kind of punishment?'

Now both dark eyebrows shot into his moon-like hair. 'And for what sort of insult would I concoct such punishment?' He sounded genuinely astounded. 'Please do clarify.'

Hawke sagged a little. 'For everything I put you through. You were quite clear.'

His smile almost swept her away. It had the same devastating force as his voice at this very moment. 'Ah yes. That punishment.' The hand that hold her wrist loosened and his thumb caressed the sensitive skin of the inside of her arm. 'The punishment for leaving me alone, wondering how much you hated me.'

'What?' She almost stumbled. That he had been afraid she didn't love him anymore was one thing; that he apparently had thought she hated him, came as a shock. It was impossible to ignore the arrows of both desire and fear he shot at her with those words. 'How have you ever managed not to break apart because of me.' She swallowed hard. 'Because of me,' she repeated contritely, at this moment very much willing to punch herself. 'I have been so harsh to you.'

'And you're thinking that by holding back, I'm punishing you more than myself?'

'I don't understand. Why –'

Fenris silenced her by cupping her face with both his hands. His silver streaked green eyes, so close by and still with those enlarged deep black pupils, glistening in the bright moonlight, nearly undid her. 'Have you any idea how much I love you?'

'I, er, no,' Hawke stuttered confused. She but just swallowed back a thoughtless reply like "of course I do" because she really didn't. 'I can only hope,' she said humbly. She looked up at him with eyes filled with remorse. 'But if you love me that much, why are you doing this?'

And again he snapped. Near to tears he drew her in his arms, showered her with kisses and let his mouth devour hers once more. 'I'm not a wild dog,' he whispered after he released her, but didn't push her away this time.

And at once she understood why he held back so strongly.

The spiteful remarks, the vindictive judgments, the wounding comments ...

Fenris's words, and actions, led back to one person and one person only.

'You're still concerned about what Anders said,' she murmured, with fast rising anger. Not aimed at him but at the mage. 'About all the stupid names he called you.'

He pulled her back in his arms, even fastened his hold on her and she felt his body stiffen at the same time. He almost choked her but she didn't mind. This was important; something had a firm, nasty grasp on his mind, something beyond her stupid deed. This was not just worth her attention, it was most disquieting and she should do something about it. Immediately. It struck her it was well possible she had to talk him out of as much misery as he had pulled her from. 'And what if I did,' she heard him murmur, confirming her suspicion.

Her eyes flew open and she could only just withhold a loud curse. _Don't say something rash. Don't chase him away_. On the other hand, to be honest, she didn't know _what_ exactly would chase him away. And thus she chose to speak her mind, though as careful as she was able to. Which suited her character better anyway.

'Ah yes,' she scoffed, 'I remember. "_Certainly you want someone with a more open mind._" As if _he_ was the walking example of an unbiased person. You called him a hypocrite and truer words were never spoken.' She sighed, thinking of all the things she had wanted to throw in Anders's face at that weighty moment, but never had done because she had wished to prevent a mighty row. Now, more than ever, she regretted that. She should have taken Fenris by the hand and dragged him out of the sewers to leave Anders to stew in his own hatred and the putrid fumes of the disgusting materials he, in hindsight, had needed to build his magic bomb. The bloody bastard. 'And I only told him to back off. I should have been harder with him. I'm still sorry I wasn't.' She made an attempt at being supportive. It didn't work.

'That doesn't mean I didn't think about what he meant.'

_Oh fuck_

She pressed her fingers forcefully in the muscles of the elf's back to emphasize her next words, but doubted he even noticed it. 'What he _meant_ was to hurt you. To make you feel as insecure as possible.'

_Maker, is this what's pestering him? Can I kill Anders as yet? I think he deserves it. Shit. And I thought _I _was the only wrongdoer._

Fenris let go of the strong embrace although his hands lingered on her shoulders.

She looked at him, at his sudden gloomy face. She sighed again. 'Anders simply hated the idea I loved you.' She covered his mouth with her fingers because she knew what he wanted to say. She kissed him tenderly on his lovely nose. 'He wanted me for himself although that creepy vengeful spirit of his wouldn't allow anyone in his life but its own demanding presence. And although _I_ didn't want _him_. So he figured that if he couldn't get me, no-one could. Let alone you, the one that detested everything that had to do with magic. From the first moment on he considered you his enemy. And that didn't get any better when he found out I had fallen for you. And he couldn't comprehend at all, didn't _want_ to comprehend, I kept on loving you, even after that significant night. Yes, he considered you a mage-hater but that was not the main reason he loathed you.'

Fenris had turned into a classic example of pain and torture. 'As I loathed him,' he murmured.

She wanted to wipe that hurting expression away but she didn't know how.

'It won't be easy to forget how he reacted,' Fenris went on. 'To forget what he said, after...' He hesitated for a heartbeat. 'After I left you,' he continued with a pained expression. 'He turned you into a whore and me into a mindless beast,' he breathed.

For some reason Hawke got the feeling this wasn't the real reason why Fenris was so bothered. Nevertheless she produced a faint smile. 'As I remember well, it was Isabela who made that conversation into a kind of bitch-in-heat topic.'

'Maybe she said it out loud but Anders suggested it.' Fenris reciprocated her smile. 'Well, that is perhaps not really true. He just gloated on my unhappiness and I had no doubt he was certain you were available once more for his charms. Isabela just broke the tension.' He became serious again immediately after; 'I don't want to sound ungrateful; he did save my life after the battle in the Gallows courtyard. But after that ...' he abruptly stopped talking.

'After that what?' Hawke urged him on. She got anxious.

Fenris shook his head. He bit his lip and let out a deep sigh. After some hesitation he said, 'He blamed me for your disappearance. He said you had thrown away your life for me anyhow. He said – ' His face retorted at the remembrance. 'He said you told him you didn't have feelings for me anymore, but you wanted to save me the humiliation of telling me plainly. He said I had it coming after the way I treated you.'

Hawke was rendered speechless. She cringed at his words. As a matter of fact she had a hard time not to explode, and only with the greatest exertion she managed to stay composed. She could remember all too well how Anders had tried to bring down Fenris by referring to his time as a slave, how one-sided that had made him. And oh, how angry she had got by his harsh words. It might have been a last desperate attempt to drive her away from her elf, but she had had to tap in all her reserves of willpower not to slap him in the face back then. Once more she regretted greatly she hadn't done just that. And now, apparently, the mage had taken advantage of her perhaps unfounded but, despite that, all-consuming fear Fenris would die because of her, and he had given him that low devastating blow. _Look into a mirror, you deranged moron, and then tell me who's the one-sided person around. Pot and kettle, to say the least_. _You've always revelled in your so-called predicament and stuck with it, while Fenris has so hard tried to move on._ _Andraste's burning tits! I really wished I had killed you. You deserve it. _Again she swallowed hard. 'So that's where you got the idiotic idea I hated you,' she managed, her voice a low grumble. 'I do hope by now you know he made it all up just to hurt you.'

'Your leaving didn't help,' Fenris put forward.

_Yes, this is also my fault. _She vigorously shook herself._ Don't dwell on that. That topic has gone stale. It's about Fenris this time, so try to say something positive. Gods this is hard._

'Especially with someone as eager as to explain why,' she said heatedly. 'Maker, after all he did! After he betrayed us all and blew up the Chantry and started a complete war! Bloody hell! If it wasn't for him saving your life, I by now would be regretting I didn't kill him when I got the chance! It's evident he didn't learn anything at all.' She pursed her lips and tried with all her might to calm down. 'The main reason he hated you, hates you, had nothing to do with your opinion about magic; it was all about how you learned to trust me and how I trusted you back and we became lovers – if only for one night,' she said. 'And after, well, you know...' She was reluctant to refer to the dreadful occurrences in the Hanged Man where Fenris had met his traitorous sister and where his former master finally had found his well deserved end – _fuck it, not another hated name attached to rotten memories right now_. She straightened her shoulders. 'After we got back together, I figure it only got worse,' she went on, completing her broken off sentence. She presumed Fenris understood what she was hinting at without going into details. 'I think Anders couldn't cope with that. So he lashed out at the first opportunity he got. And took his final revenge at the next. Sadly I was the one who provided him with that opportunity.' _And can we please just drop this unsavoury question for once and all? I'm getting sick of it._

Fenris said, ruefully, 'I'm still sorry about that night, and probably will always be. I assume Anders has been fretting about it for years. I suppose it came as a death-blow to him we picked up where I left off.' He added sardonically, 'Literally and figuratively.' He was starting to feel frustrated with himself. This was not why he had come here. It was hard enough without Anders polluting and disturbing his thoughts. Let alone the ghosts of Danarius and Varania did much to regain his peace of mind. He knew very well what she meant with her cut off "after all, well you know". To his surprise Hawke at that same moment fisted the fabric of his shirt and said vehemently, 'I don't want to talk about him nor discuss his idiotic coloured opinions any longer. This is not about him. This is about you and me. About how I hurt you and you nonetheless came after me and still refuse to fuck me. Take me, damn it, before I not only become a bitch in heat but even worse, a bloodthirsty she-wyvern! How much do you think I can endure!'

And that did it.

The hands on her shoulders suddenly gripped hard and pushed her into the wall next to the opened window. Driven to heated desperation Hawke shredded the cotton of Fenris's shirt she already had in her angry grasp, and bared his perfectly chiselled chest. She pressed her breasts against his naked skin and revelled in the pure touch. Her nipples pebbled at once. The very moment his markings lighted up and engulfed her with bluish white light that went right through her and kindled her desire for him even more. She felt his throbbing length pushing against her thigh and with trembling fingers reached out for the laces that held his trousers together. Being out of patience, she also tore the alluring entrance to slivers and at the same time she wracked his smallclothes. He didn't even laugh, he just underwent her ministrations with bewilderment and above all delight.

She felt his hands shift from her shoulders to her behind to support her weight and with confidence she wrapped her legs around his waist, using the wall as a counterpoint. He would hold her; without doubt he would. She trusted him completely, as she always did. 'I love you, you harebrained idiot,' she sobbed. 'How could you ever question that?!'

With one forceful movement Fenris tore her underwear to pieces; he was absolutely not able to restrain himself any longer. He forcefully doused the confusing discussion in his head, or rather she had doused it with telling him she loved him. That broke the fence. And he answered with thrusting his painfully near-to-exploding shaft into her drenched expecting sheath. He had felt the urge to do that all evening although he really had wanted to take it slow. The chance was taken out of his hands and at this very moment he felt no remorse.

'Marian!' he cried out the moment he sensed the connection and got aware of her need for him. Maker! He smelled the sweet scent of her desire that wafted around him and he wanted nothing more than to satisfy her and give heed to his own urging craving. Her fingers pressed into his shoulders and back, and her legs clamped around his waist. It all but kindled his frantic longing to possess her. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder and gratefully let him take possession of her; eagerly she moved with his rhythm.

This was what she wanted: feeling him deep inside her, the movement of his love so close by, her heart almost bursting. She didn't even need his fingers to push her to a grant explosion; she had ached for him for so long that even the sheer look of his longing eyes and the subtle touch of his fingers and now a faint lick of his tongue on her sweaty throat brought her to a crushing height.

'Fenris!'

At the same time, encouraged by her enthusiasm, he found his own orgasm; it appeared to last forever, he kept spurting his seed into her depth, there didn't seem to come an end to it; his head reeled, he felt his fleeting thoughts and fluttering heartbeats and heated desires mingle with her cries of ecstasy.

And, at once, there was peace and quiet.

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Fenris more or less came to his senses. He lifted his lover and carried her to the four poster bed. 'I wanted to take it slow,' he grimaced wryly but entirely satisfied.

'Thank the Maker you didn't,' Hawke smiled gratefully.

He laid her down with all the devotion he could muster and kissed her brow. 'I love you,' he said simply, 'I can only hope you don't feel offended.'

She shot him a cheeky grin and replied playfully, ´And I can only hope you will again give me some kind of display of want or possession or whatever you care to call what you did to me minutes ago.´ She reached out and touched his face. ´I love you too and I want you. And I need you to be at my side. Forever. I'm sorry I didn't make that more clear before.'

Her face turned into a bright expression. She beamed impishly at him. 'When I said "minutes ago", I meant, "It cannot come too soon." So you understand.'

She cried out in surprise when he took her fancy seriously at the very moment.

Fenris let his fingers wander along the exposed skin of her naked body, her so beloved body. ´I live to please,´ he mumbled before he got her completely off-handed by twirling his tongue around her nub that had hardly had the chance to recuperate. And now again roared into action.

It turned out to be an overture to a long and passionate night.

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**And yes, to be continued…**

**Thank you so much for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A warning in advance: there will be sex. Quite a lot of it to be frank. Fenris's way of describing of how he had wanted to take it slow...**

**Enjoy!**

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Give me an answer 5

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"And still that distant and pensively observing white moonlight was peeping in, like some kind of heavenly witness through the window of that particular room, set high in that particular severe fortress where so many events already had taken place. Observing, with that same cold absent interest, everything that happened in aforesaid room. Although, at this time it seemed her cool light had warmed up and had taken real attention. As if her rays wanted to outshine the sun. Some would have stated the Maker himself finally had deemed that the people he had abandoned had proven themselves worthy enough to awake his attention; others would tell the Elvhen Gods of old were looking upon the scene and they had taken up the courage to come back to life. Because a full moon never stays long in the sky and always is some kind of foreboding sign, acting almost as an eluvian, reflecting and invoking all kinds of feelings and events; a mirror to another time and a different place. As long as she shines everything is possible. And thus divine intervention could have been one of those possibilities."

A short pause followed and fell in the midst of a breathless crowd.

"Such version of the tale would, of course, be nonsense. It would be nothing but a fancy fairytale, only believed by ignorant peasants. Because real love doesn't need the intervention of gods. It just needs the meddling of pirates. _A_ certain pirate in this case."

And because the dwarf told it, they swallowed it as the ultimate truth. It was the way how he told it, how he used his voice to weave an almost-existing world, and took their hand to lead them over the waves of emotions and expectations. At this moment the audience in the taproom of the tavern in Skyhold hung on his every word. Even Solas, leaning nonchalantly against the doorpost, couldn't suppress a smile. He noticed Cassandra, who was trying to hide in the shadows, was all but captivated but then again, the fierce woman had a streak of romantic feelings he hadn't seen coming. He found it amusing. He had to admit, however, the dwarf had a natural talent when it came to telling tales. Even he himself almost got swept away by it. And this one was full of hope; a glistening pebble in the dark fear that surrounded them all. How could he blame the Seeker for seeking solace this time, instead of the truth.

With his rolling baritone Varric told his addicted audience it was just the perfect night for two separated lovers to find each other again at long last. And this tale, how surprising, found a mass of followers. Because, Solas mused, most people wanted to believe in romance and a story ending right. It was no wonder Varric's saga's about extremely brave but self-sacrificing hero's, a typical dwarven preference, found not that many followers, and his novel about the Champion wasn't even his best sold book. After all, that one didn't end well, what with the start of the mages' uprising and the turmoil filled with blood and despair it had brought about. Leading to one of the disasters they all tried so very hard to put right. But at this very moment the dwarf was forging a more than satisfactory outcome to his Champion story. Solas smiled silently. In this harsh world people were dying for something to dream about, be it valour or extreme deeds of courage or, in this case, two persons pledging their everlasting love to each other after an extremely difficult time of separation. He had been in the Fade with the former Champion, he had heard the poisonous words Coryphaeus had spoken and thus knew about her predicament. He wished her every happiness in the world. She had earned it. And he knew Varric wasn't making it up; the bright shining light in his eyes betrayed his exhilaration.

Varric, in the meantime, had spotted both the Seeker and the enigmatic elven man listening to his clamorous story about his – still – favourite heroine and her elven lover. He had to grin inwardly, especially when he saw the normal boisterous Iron Bull and his Chargers stealthily crawling nearer in case they would miss a word. Stern Commander Cullen had even laid an arm around the Inquisitor and absentmindedly pulled her closer; a real heroic display of affection in public.

He had the creepy feeling both the Maker and the Elvhen Gods took notes.

They'd better because, to his immense pleasure, yesterday he had received a message from Rivaini. And the message had been very good. It had made his day. In fact, it had repaired all the nasty mental injuries Hawke had inflicted with her eerie behaviour in the Fade. He couldn't stop beaming.

* * *

'I believe there's a bottle of wine lying somewhere about,' Hawke mumbled when she more or less was able to talk again after she had finally floated out of her exaltation and could think coherently. 'With the complements of the First Warden no less. I believe he tried to bribe me with it, or was using it as some kind of bait to get me out of his office, for it was obvious he wanted to be rid of me as fast as possible.' Her voice still sounded thick and foggy after her second flight to ecstasy. She still couldn´t believe what had happened and, frankly, didn´t want to know how it had happened. Or why. She simply wanted to let the bliss wash over her and through her, without complicating side-effects.

She lay back into the thick luxurious pillows of the four poster bed, where they had ended up, with her eyes closed, and basked in Fenris's wondrous weight upon her upper body. He was clearly as spent and drowsy as she was. And hopefully felt equally happy. 'Right now I would like some wine. To celebrate or something like that,' she explained her remark. She couldn't help but chortling girlishly.

She felt liberated. For such a long time she had been wandering in a black pit of despair, so convinced she could only bring harm to the ones she loved, that she had come to the conclusion that the title of the Angel of Death she had bestowed upon herself, should be added to the list of the horrible creatures pestering Thedas she had come across, while she was roaming Weisshaupt's library to gather information about Corypheus and red lyrium. But then Fenris had showed up to rattle her bones, followed by Isabela to shake her out of her stupor, and finally her elf had again come to her to fully open her eyes, to haul her out of that terrible abyss and by doing so, managed to heal her aching wounds. The dark words sounding like a hellish prophecy had drowned or rather faded. A little smile unfolded. Indeed, _faded_, vanished into the Fade where they belonged, together with that unsavoury monster that had uttered them to hit her where it most hurt. She not only felt liberated but also gratified, relieved and extremely, if not insanely happy.

'Hmm,' the same elf answered languidly, if you could call it an answer. He was resting with his head on her chest, using her one breast as a cushion and holding the other with his free hand, while his thumb lazily moved over the soft skin just below her nipple. With some difficulty he heaved his chin and looked at her through half opened lids. 'You're implying I should get out of bed to go searching for said bottle,' he said accusingly.

'You hold me all but captive,' she pointed out. 'I can't get up.' She had opened her eyes at his move, and now caught the sudden mischievous silvery glint in the shining beloved springtime green.

'That can be remedied,' the elf grinned and rolled off her body, propping himself up on an elbow. He made a wide waving gesture at her involuntary freedom. 'See.' He laughed at her fuddled expression and lightly touched her face, showing her his so treasured crooked smile. 'Just stay, love, let me.' Elegantly he slipped off the bed; he looked around for just a few moments before he spotted the bottle of wine, sitting on the low round table that stood in the middle of the large room.

With much approval Hawke ogled his taut behind while he walked over to his goal. 'Leave the glasses,' she called after him. 'Let's drink straight from the bottle like we used to do in our good old fashioned way. You know, just after you found out that drinking the wine was a better idea than decorate your walls with it.'

He laughed. 'Whatever you like.' Fenris studied the label and concluded with satisfaction, 'It's an Antivan red Summer Passion and a very good vintage at that. I always liked the Antivans for the simple plain names they give their wines. This title covers its contents in the best possible way; it's definitely a good bribe or bait,' he added playfully. He opened the bottle and turned back to the bed. He immediately caught the admiring if not hungry look with which her eyes followed him. 'Enjoy what you're seeing?' There was a twinkle in his eyes she couldn't miss, not even in the dim light.

'Enjoy? That's poorly put. I revel in it,' Hawke smirked. 'And you know it.'

He settled next to her against the thick pillows and snuggled close to her. He offered her the first drink. 'Do I now? And by the way, celebrate what exactly?'

She tilted her head and ticked off. 'Our reunion, leading to our engagement, me being dragged out of the precipice of depression by your words and presence, the best sex I had in a long time, you name it ... And while we're at that last subject, I'm curious to know ...' Hawke started pensively before she took a sip of the Summer Passion. She hummed her approval at the taste of the rich red liquid. She passed the bottle back to him. 'This is indeed damn good wine. Perhaps we should make use of glasses after all.'

Fenris raised an eyebrow. 'I'm not leaving this bed once more.'

'You don't have to,' Hawke smiled. She reached out her hand to pick up a glass sitting on the side table next to the bed. 'They left one here, together with a pitcher filled with fresh water. From the outside this might look like an austere fortress, but in reality it turns out to be a first class hostel. At least for the few guests who apparently earn the warm welcome,' she added sarcastically. She heaved the glass and he filled it with the Antivan Summer Passion. Hawke took another appreciating sip.

'You were curious to know – something,' Fenris encouraged her to speak her mind before it had wandered off. Especially because he was curious about the subject.

'Ah yes, the question about the sex.' She giggled at his sudden bewildered face. Six years ago she wouldn't have dreamed uttering such plain teasing words – what! not even six _months_ ago. But now she felt comfortable with them. So much had changed of late and had even more rapidly changed this very night. Perhaps the former changes had come as the knotted gnarled roots of an ancient tree, tangling around each other in an almost suffocating way. New habits and emotions trying to mix with old experiences, but with the lingering stubborn old ones hardly giving space for new ideas, because so much pain stood in the way. But the last change had been as a new, fresh and bold green sprout, finding nutritious earth to flourish on, and pushing the old roots aside.

'I'm curious to know how in Andraste's name you imagined you could take it slow like you insisted you wanted to do,' she concluded her by herself interrupted sentence. 'I mean, after all this time and we both being on edge, the idea seems to me unimaginable if not preposterous. It boggles the mind.' She wiggled her eyebrows at him but to her astonishment he took her flippantly spoken words very seriously. The moment after she would find out, to her own advantage to be frank, how seriously.

Fenris gently took the glass out of her hands and put the vessel together with the bottle back on the side table. 'Do you want me to tell you ... or to show you,' he murmured huskily. Her eyes flew wide and her breath hitched but he gave her no room for a lucid reaction. She could feel him smile faintly when his moist lips lightly kissed the skin of her throat.

At the same time his fingers touched her shoulder. They crept to the nape of her neck while his mouth moved to the spot behind her ear. 'For example I would have given this particular spot a lot of attention,' he whispered and his warm breath swirled down her back, giving her goose bumps. She felt the tip of his tongue give her a small lick which added only to her excitement. 'And do you know why?'

She squeaked something incomprehensible.

'Because here I can smell the scent of your very being, that sweet tantalizing scent of cherry blossom and ripe peaches, combined with the tang of wild honey. Please don't ever use perfume to spoil that.' Very slowly he let his lips wander down her arm while his fingertips softly rasped down her spine. 'And after that I would have worshipped every inch of your silky body,' he murmured. He took her hand in his and kissed each knuckle of her fingers. He turned her arm and started back up from her wrist over the sensitive skin of the inside of her arm to her elbow. In the meantime his other hand had reached the end of her back and travelled up again in the same maddening slow tempo.

Already she was turning into a defenceless puddle of desire.

'And then I would have stopped to feed you some wine,' he said lowly. He put one arm around her trembling shoulders and reached easily for the half-filled glass, waiting patiently on the side-table for him to lift it. Without a protest she swallowed the liquid from the glass he gently held to her mouth before he sat it down again. He drank the last drops from her lips. He kissed her with such tenderness it almost brought her to tears.

'Fenris,' she whimpered but he silenced her with yet another impossible soft kiss. She thought she would literally melt.

'And after that,' he went on with that hypnotizing gravelly voice, 'I would have explored other even more exhilarating places you have to offer.' His fingers trailed down her other arm while his lips followed the path to her chest. His tongue briefly flicked around an erect nipple and she stifled a strident cry. A part of her wanted to haul him into her arms and force him to take her right here and now. Another part waited enchanted what he would do next and the rest of her was simply too captivated with his ministrations to react at all, at least not on its own account. He had made her his willing prisoner but, to be honest, right now she didn't want it any other way.

His mouth travelled back up and caught her lips; he gently bit her and she felt his tongue slip in, lazily entangling with hers while his fingers feathered over her waist and went up to her breasts, giving every square inch of her body he came across loving attention, in the most gentle and enticing way possible. Once more he dimly had lit his markings and he engulfed her with the electrifying effect. Enthralled she let him do what he pleased. There was no way she could, or even was willing, to waylay him. He left her mouth again and looked into her eyes. He leant his forehead against hers. She was all but rapt by the love he radiated. 'Perhaps I would have thought at this time a little sip of wine again would fit in my idea of how to adore you,' he murmured.

Somewhere she found her voice, or at least a part of it. 'Fenris,' she croaked, 'I don't know if can take it much longer.'

His smile swept her away. 'Hush my love.' He suddenly sank his teeth into the crook of her shoulder. It wasn't fierce at all; in fact it wasn't more than a nibble but it came so unexpected that it shot fiery bolts through her centre and left her breathless. Helplessly she clung onto him and she accepted without any protest the next drink of wine he offered her. And once more he drank the sweet liquid off her lips; or even better, this time he dipped his tongue into her mouth to share the same sip with her. It left her even more exhilarated. She'd never known he could play her like a well-tuned lute. No, that wasn't true, she _had_ known but right now he was taking that knowledge to a whole other level. An extremely high level. He was a tremendously fabulous musician. At least when it considered her body, her soul and every other part of her. But if he'd put this up, he could play with her very existence as far as she was concerned. She sank back into the pillows, completely surrendering herself to his actions.

He let his fingers trace between her breasts to her abdomen and even further down while his mouth again went to the beloved spot behind her ear. 'I would have said I longed so strongly for you it almost took my senses away,' he breathed. 'That in fact the last shred of those senses were spent on finding you in this Maker forgotten place to recapture you.' She heard him forcefully take in air. 'I would have said Icould not even express how thankful I was that I in reality could breathe in your scent again.'

In the meantime his soft and yet wicked fingers had reached her inner thighs. Her whole body went taut. If he had confessed right here and now he, in fact, was a mage and held her enthralled in his charm, she would have believed it and even more would have been more than fine with it.

_I want you, please take me_

'And then ...' He let his voice hover in the air the very moment he left the tender skin of her thighs and touched her anticipating wet folds. It was as if she got struck by a lightning bolt. Behind her closed eyes she could see the violent light with which his markings went from dim to almost blinding bright. He longed for her as much as she longed for him. What did he wait for? She let out a cry and arched her back. 'Please ...' she begged, grabbing his shoulders, 'don't torment me any longer.'

He let out a little chuckle and managed to check his sudden outburst of white shining lyrium. 'Of course I would have hoped for that reaction.' His hoarse voice did nothing but entice her more. In a desperate attempt she tried to grasp his body, every part of it, to force him to take possession of her. He caught her arms that tried to embrace him with an inimitable swift reaction, and once more captured her mouth with his. Only this time his tongue was much more demanding, as good as commanding her to surrender to him. Without any objection she did. It was a good start.

'Don't stop,' she panted when they were forced to take a breath. 'What would you have done after this?'

He gave her such a soft and at the same time smouldering smile, she as good as dissolved under his contradicting stare.

'You really want to know?'

'Please,' she pleaded breathlessly.

He hesitated. 'I don't want to end this,' he whispered.

'Please,' she repeated.

Tantalizingly slow he inserted a finger into her hungering sheath. She might have expected this action, it still caught her off guard. She bucked. It became even worse when his soft lips left hers to journey over her body, kissing and nibbling her until they reached their goal. And then he let that ever so skilled tongue play over her hard yearning pearl, while his finger curled inside her. She bucked more forcefully; she felt her orgasm building fast, but wanted to postpone it. _Not now, he wanted to take it ... _she was hardly able to think soundly.

Nevertheless she let out a frustrated guttural moan when his hands and mouth left her burning centre alone and ever so slowly travelled back up, his lips trailing kisses over her heated skin, until his body covered hers and she could feel his heart pound against hers.

He hid his face in her shoulder and his voice, strained with want, resonated through her head when he groaned, 'I would have taken much more time.'

'I think this would have more than sufficed,' Marian managed.

He cupped her face while he moved between her legs. 'I had wanted to.'

Marian threw her legs around his waist. 'Please,' she croaked feebly. 'Don't let this become torture.'

He gave her a scorching look and it made her shiver. 'This is sweet torture,' he groaned. The tip of his hardened length entered her – and stayed motionless. He rested his lips on the spot behind her ear and grazed her skin. 'I worship you,' he whispered. They both held their breath, taken away by the picture he had painted, frozen in the momentum. He still didn't want it to end; she was near to tears.

'You've made your point,' she panted, helplessly. 'I understand. I love you. I trust you. I will be your wife. And I will repeat it over and over again. Yes, I love you, but right now I lust for you. Just, just _fuck_ me godsdamned!'

However much he wished to, he couldn't hold back anymore.

She felt him burying himself deep inside her and couldn't help but crying out his name. He tried hard to keep a low rhythm but she urged him on and he lost himself in her warm moist depth. He drowned in the cloud of her scent and wetness, sweet and riveting and arousing, and his thrusts became faster and more urgent, until his whole existence boiled down to just being with her and inside her, and form one body out of two. And then her orgasm inevitably took her and swirled her away while she tried to keep a hold onto him.

He could simply feel and smell her lose her essence and give it to him. When he gave his to her, moments later, he fell boneless on her body, not able to help himself. He just hoped he wouldn't crush her. But the forceful way she threw her arms around him reassured him.

'Marian, my love,' he murmured.

It took a long time before they got to their senses. After all the passion they had shared this night, this was in the end the most intense love-making. It probably surpassed the night they had made up for all the lost years. Finally he heaved his head and looked at her flushed face. He let his fingers linger on her cheek. 'And of course after that I would have told you how much I love you and would have asked you to become my wife,' he said with a little smile. 'That part got away with me earlier this evening. I had it all worked out in my mind and it came out so wrong.'

Only now he noticed some tears were dripping down her face. 'Marian?'

She shook her head. 'I shouldn't have been so impatient; I should have let you take it slow,' she whimpered. 'Maker! I knew you were the perfect lover!' She wiped away her tears. ´I knew you loved me but never how much. Forgive me ... I suppose I was still scared you would leave me. And even that I shouldn't have taken into consideration, because you would never have done such a thing.´

He turned on his side, taking her with him in his loving embrace. ´So now you know. No more fears. What about another sip of wine?' While he kept on holding her, he worked himself up on an elbow and took the bottle in his hand.

With a shaking laugh she accepted. 'So this was the way you had wanted to propose. Stupid me, I should have known. I ruined it.'

She drew herself up and pushed her nose against his neck. 'Cherry blossom and ripe peaches and something about wild honey?' She surprised him by remembering his heated description of how she smelled; and then surprised him even more when she whispered into his ear, 'Have you any inkling of how you can you drive me wild with _your_ scent of wild forest and sweet jasmine?'

His eyes flew wide. 'What?'

She giggled softly. 'Apparently I'm not the only one who smells nice.'

He fastened his grip on her. 'Apparently not.' He almost dropped the bottle of Summer Passion.

´I was such an idiot to leave you,´ she groaned.

It led to another round of lovemaking and after that they were really utterly exhausted.

Nevertheless neither of them could sleep. There still were loose ends and questions to answer and they both knew it.

* * *

**Thank you for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Things are never as easy as they seem... (But don't worry, no major disaster is afoot.)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Give me an Answer 6

* * *

"The full moon now descended to the barren low hills surrounding the stern and unyielding Weisshaupt Fortress and turned into a large orange ball."

Varric stared at the words he had just scribbled down on a blank sheet of paper. It was not his first attempt. After having discarded several other approaches, or perhaps even better attacks, at the (unexpected) last chapters of his Champion saga, including ridiculous appearances of wolves and hawks doing all sorts of implausible stuff, he had returned to basic and was now trying to paint some kind of ambiance, to set the scene so to say. Pensively he tapped with his index finger against his clean shaven chin. 'Anderfells, Anderfells _... _does the bloody place even _have_ hills,' he mused aloud. 'Or should I write "barren wastelands" just to be on the safe side?' He wrinkled his brow. 'No, that sounds like shit: the moon descended to the barren wastelands – like she's about to shatter to pieces on the er, barren floor of – whatever. No good. But wait... what about _onto_ the barren wastelands ..? No. Down to ..? Gracefully sank towards the barren horizon ..? Ugh! Fuck it!' With a loud frustrated grunt he crumpled up the paper and threw the ball into a corner of his room where it met with quite a lot of examples of the dwarf's former pitiable failures. He thumped the table in a flare of impotent fury.

The same moment the Inquisitor, who incidentally happened to pass Varric's room, stuck her head around the door, alarmed by the angry outburst. 'Things not going well in the Swords and Shields-department?' she informed sweetly.

Varric practically growled his answer. 'Don't get me started about that lousy serial. This,' he waved angrily at the stack of virginally white paper lying before him, 'is meant to become the extended story of the Champion's, tale and it is difficult enough as it is without reminders to my worst work ever, whatever the Seeker may think of it.' He looked up at her. 'Do you perchance know if there are hills in the Anderfells?'

Evelyn cocked her brow, looking at the distressed expression on the dwarf's face and noticing the thrown away balls of paper. 'I think you're in dire need of a drink,' she concluded, amicably. 'Before you combust into flames or eat your quill. Or wreck all of your stationary. Come on, let's head to the inn. You seem to be having a hard time.' She concluded, 'A pity really. To be honest, I was secretly hoping you would recite again one of your wonderful tales about the Champion this night. As a matter of fact I was looking forward to it.'

'Not a chance,' Varric grumbled determinedly while he pushed his chair back and stood up. 'I first have to get it perfect. But you're right, a drink isn't a bad idea; maybe it'll pour some inspiration into my empty head. My barren head,' he added with a sarcastic sneer. 'And you're welcome to share one with me. Perhaps you can be some kind of inspiration.'

Still grinning Evelyn shook her head while they descended the long stone flight of stairs leading from the large hall down to the courtyard. 'And you seemed so happy yesterday.'

'Don't get me wrong, I still am. Happy I mean. Exalted even. But it turns out it's much harder to express one's happiness than one's misery. The more wretchedness, the easier to describe the feelings. So many colourful words to choose from.'

'You did very well last night,' the Inquisitor countered. 'In case you didn't notice: a whole crowd was hanging onto your very lips and I haven't heard a single complaint about a lack of colourful words.'

'Yesterday, my lady Inquisitor, I was on a roll, what with Rivaini's letter and what it told and all,' Varric said reproachfully. 'I hadn't even had time to realize the challenge but now I do. So, just like our lovely Seeker, you just will have to bide your time.' Only the mention of the pirate's name suddenly stirred up an immense longing for a simple play of Wicked Grace. 'So I suggest a relaxing and innocent round of cards to spend this evening.'

Evelyn burst into a fit of girlish giggles which ended with a bout of coughs. She had to hold on to parapet to sustain her equilibrium. 'When you succeed in talking Cullen into it, I'm all for it.' And she started laughing again. Uncontrollably.

'Leave it all to me, my lady,' Varric said with a wicked grin.

* * *

As a matter of fact the full moon _was_ turning into a ball of warm dark orange and descending to – whatever she was descending to. It was impossible to solve that particular issue because the view through the window from the bed in Hawke's suite was quite limited, but neither Marian nor Fenris were paying it any attention anyway, having only eyes for each other. Thus it stayed a philosophical question (or a geographical one if you will), open to all kinds of suggestions and discussions.

They were sharing a glass of wine in the midst of crumpled sheets and blankets. Fenris had pulled Marian in his arms to keep her as close as possible, and with a contented sigh she leant into his frame, her slender legs crossing his thighs. Her fingers slowly trailed up and down his chiselled chest and abdomen, conscious of every perfect taut muscle she came across. In response he tenderly stroked her back.

'I hope you understand that from now on I won't leave you out of my sight for just one moment,' he murmured in her hair, in his opinion an adorable tangled mess after all their lovemaking. With overjoyed pleasure he took in her scent.

'Afraid I will lose my senses yet again in some bout of panic and cowardly run off like a half-baked biscuit?' She planted a soft kiss on his skin and he suppressed a shiver. 'I can't even blame you,' she admitted remorsefully.

Stifling a snigger Fenris fastened the hold of his arm around her shoulder. 'Boldly put but not far from the truth. I however would rather have said I was scared you would once more assume the self-proclaimed sinister title of the Angel of Death.'

Hawke cringed, feeling his hidden hurt. 'Hearing it from your mouth, putting it this way, it sounds not only preposterous but also pathetically dramatic,' she groaned. 'Something even Varric would be ashamed of to come up with. Gods, what was I thinking.'

'That indeed is the question,' Fenris smiled, gently tugging at a lock of her hair. 'And were you even thinking at all I wonder.' He caught the hand that intended to slap him and planted a kiss on Marian's shoulder. He didn't want to broach the subject but the question kept lingering in his head and so, after a short silence, he asked tentatively, 'You don't think Corypheus had some kind of influence on you back then, after the battle in Kirkwall? Or even before? I mean, after all the disturbing business in the Vimmark Mountains?'

'No.' Marian sucked her lip. Her heart suddenly clenched painfully, caused only by the remembrance of Fenris's beaten body; she had still difficulties with that dreadful image. 'It was ... seeing you lying like that, so badly wounded ... I simply couldn't believe you would survive your injury. And you were in that horrible state because you tried to save me. Because you did save me. I lived and you were just a heartbeat away from death. At that moment something snapped inside me. It even went beyond panic. I remembered clearly the others I loved so much dying before my eyes without me being able to do anything about it. And I blamed myself. Not only for their deaths but for everything that had gone wrong. I wallowed in guilt and shame. And it happened in an instant. Something shifted inside me and all went dark and dull. Corypheus had nothing to do with it. Not at that time.'

_Not at that time._

Fenris contemplated her words. 'I suppose that that darkspawn or old magister, or whatever the monster represents, got a strong grip on you in the Fade.' He heard her utter a shuddering sigh and immediately regretted his remark. They had gone through this already after all, there was no need to repeat that painful episode. But he couldn't deny that her decision to choose death voluntarily without a second thought, still shook the very centre of his existence. Nevertheless, it should be a closed book. She had tried to explain, he didn't comprehend but then again, he hadn't been with her in the Fade. How the hell was he ever supposed to remotely feel what she had experienced? He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the top of her head. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up,' he added contritely. He was overly happy she had changed back from the desperate depressed woman he had found in this very chamber into the merry, steadfast and passionate one he knew. The last thing he wished, was to make her feel miserable again by going on about Corypheus and all the bastard had caused.

Marian turned in his arms to look at him and smiled heartening. 'There's no need to apologise my love. If it had been the other way around, I too would have wanted a proper and satisfying answer. I figure it's as difficult to grasp as to clarify. Frankly, by now I can hardly explain it to myself. It's just ... ' She closed her eyes to concentrate. It indeed was hard and not only because she lacked the words to describe what she had felt. The callous coldness of the Fade seemed to surround her once more. She tried to shut it out, Fenris had a right to a sane explanation. Without the blubbering, without the stumbling words, without the hysterics and definitely without the nervous breakdowns. She took a deep breath. 'He played on my deepest fears and laid bare all of my failures. And when I heard him say you would die, I found no reason to live on anymore. Down there, or up there or wherever it was we wandered around at that awful time in that awful place, there was no opportunity to think clearly. I was wrapped up in despair and pathologic numbness and nothing mattered anymore. Everything became senseless. I didn't even see it as a sacrifice to stay behind so the others could escape; it seemed more like, like some kind of last chance to save somebody for a change instead of let them perish. Almost as some kind of liberation.'

'I told you nothing was ever your fault –' Fenris started intensely before she silenced him with a kiss.

'Yes, love, I heard all of your arguments and not only that: I even listened to them. Don't worry, by now I believe them. I told you before you hauled me out off that dark pit in a way only you could. You are my saviour.' She kissed him again, smiling upon his lips. 'So what about another glass of that heavenly Antivan Summer Passion? There must be enough left in the bottle for just one more. And perhaps we can talk about more jolly subjects, about the future for example. About what we will do next. After getting married of course.'

Fenris reached for the bottle and filled the glass with the last of the wine, thinking about a coherent response. He hadn't thought about something as vague as a "next". Finding her, confronting her and getting an answer to his most pressing question was as far as he had planned ahead. He had no inkling whatsoever in what this mysterious next would consist off. Except of his strong will of asking her, well, commanding her, to marry him. Which she had taken surprisingly easy which still startled him. 'What do you have in mind?' he asked weakly.

Hawke took a small sip, knowing beforehand he wouldn't appreciate her answer. Better to be straightforward, no use to beat about the bush. She passed the glass on to him. 'I want to go back to Skyhold, to join the Inquisition in full,' she stated plainly. 'To participate in the fight against Corypheus.' She felt his body go rigid but only for a moment. She was certain, though, he was tapping into all the reserves still available to stay calm. Carefully he put the glass back on the side table.

After a long silence Fenris finally reacted. 'Don't you think you have done enough?'

She bit back an impulsive answer although all kinds of agitated thoughts rose up like water in a fountain. _Enough? It will never be enough! You haven't felt that existence's evil weighting down on you, haven't heard its poisonous voice. You haven't seen the torn sky, sensed its malevolence; just go to Haven and look at it. Just feel his poison! Then you will know!_ But she managed to swallow down those heated words; instinctively she knew they were the wrong ones. She had never been in Haven in person, nor in the devastated Temple of Ashes. But she had heard all about it, and, above all, she had been attacked by the venomous corruption. And that had been more than enough to bring her down. 'I just think Corypheus is my responsibility,' she sighed instead. 'My father renewed the seals of his prison, and with good reasons as we know now, and then I came along and freed him. I'm the one who let him loose on this world, so I think it's only proper I should also be the one to put that huge mistake right again.'

Again Fenris stayed silent for quite a time. 'Fair enough,' he finally gave in. 'I can understand what drives you.' He gave her a lopsided smile. 'Besides that I'm pretty sure I cannot talk it out off your head; if your mind is set on something you will have it your way. But I told you before I won't let you get out of my sight. So, whether you like it or not, if you want to fight him we will fight him together.'

She reciprocated his brittle smile with one that was if possible even more fragile. 'I wouldn't have expected less and by now I wouldn't have it any other way.' She exhaled with relief he took it this easy. A little premature, as she soon would find out.

Fenris leant back against the headboard of the bed, taking her with him in his arms. 'Just know I don't agree,' he said. He silenced her upcoming protest with a single finger put lightly upon her lips. 'You _have_ done enough. Consider all the tribulations you have gone through. All the things you have done over the past years to help people, to save them. The efforts you put into making other persons lives better. All the problems you solved.'

'Not _all_ the problems,' she flatly murmured. He ignored her remark, or at least pretended he hadn't heard.

'You even answered Meredith's call upon you, to hunt down gone rogue mages. And when we're at the subject, you helped mages. You even helped – him. Be it you didn't know what he was scheming.'

Marian shivered. 'Perhaps not my biggest mistake in hind sight but that one comes close,' she whispered. She closed her eyes. 'It set the world on fire. I should have known better. It's hard to bear those feelings of guilt.'

With sudden incensed anger Fenris flew up and violently grasped her shoulders. He hadn't even noticed he was at the end of his tether but after hearing her utter those last words, he was at once close to exploding. Those words were the proverbial cinder hitting the barrel of gaatlok. All of his pent-up anxiety, numbed by their wondrous lovemaking but stirred up once again already by her decision to go to Skyhold, stood now trampling on the threshold of his mind, ready to take over and make serious amok. He fervently tried to hold them back. He couldn't prevent his markings flashing up for a dangerous moment before he managed to douse them.

'Stop feeling responsible!' he all but shouted; he wanted to shake Marian ferociously but stuck with grasping her shoulders with even more force. 'For the Maker's sake stop it! It will be your downfall, and mine, if you keep this up!' Not a moment later he realized what he was doing. With force he smothered his desperate rage; it wouldn't let her see the truth. It would only make things worse. If he weren't careful, he would push her back into the darkness he had just pulled her from. He tried to calm down; taking in her shocked expression helped somewhat. 'I said that before,' he went on more gently. 'But I mean it. I mean it wholeheartedly. If anyone is entitled to retire and spend the rest of their life in peace and quiet, it is you.' He screwed his eyes shut and deflated some more. 'If you want to join the Inquisition to put Corypheus down, I will follow you. Just let your motives be straight and clear. Do it because he is the biggest danger the world has ever encountered and has to be killed just for that; don't do it because you feel guilty.' He drew her back into his arms and engulfed her with his love and dedication but not before he opened his eyes again and shot her a pleading look. 'For Andraste's sake, don't feel guilty,' he repeated softly. He didn't know what else to do or to say to let her see.

_Of course I feel guilty!_ Marian wanted to throw into his face but didn't say out loud. She had seen his pained expression. It didn't aid much to lessen her feelings of guilt but slowly it got through to her what he meant. The cause of the fight was righteous, her own reason wasn't; she had made it personal. That wasn't bad in itself, but, besides her own person, her father also had been dragged into this unsavoury affair. And so she not only had made it her personal affair, but had turned it into some kind of personal Exalted March. Out of some misplaced family pride and – yes – guilt. She suddenly wondered what her father's opinion would have been and flinched. He would have forgiven her her mistake to free Corypheus but not her feverish and obsessed twisted way to put things right.

Like some kind of revelation it struck her. Her father would have reacted in the same way Fenris had done. They probably both were right but it was difficult to let go of her stark intention to repair her mistakes. Right now, leaning into her lover's warm embrace, she could hear her father's voice in her memory, covering the far distance between the moment he shared his wisdom with her and this very moment of her existence.

"Some people say fate is inexorable but I don't believe that. Neither do I believe you can make your own destiny. So many little details are involved, so many small occurrences can put you on a different path, so many encounters can change you. We all start from one point and immediately after, many paths lay before us to choose from. Each choice will lead to a different destination. You may regret one choice because it led to an outcome you never desired, but keep in mind that another choice could have been much worse and left you in tears. We are all too willing to overlook the happiness we are dealt with, forgetting that also was due to a path we took. Instead we beat ourselves up for the pain we never wanted and curse ourselves for taking, in our eyes, the wrong decision. Always keep in mind it's useless to look back and feel sorry for the decisions you took; instead look ahead and avoid guilt. Guilt is a slow poison; inevitable it will take you in its bitter talons and kill you."

She stifled a cry and buried her face into Fenris's chest. He put his arms around her without a word and she was grateful for it.

The Inquisition could count on many dedicated and competent people; she had met the Inquisitor and _she_ seemed to be dedicated and competent enough to snuff out Corypheus on her own. She didn't need her. Oh yes, she was sure she would welcome her but, indeed, she didn't need hers nor Fenris's addition to the fight.

And still ...

Marian felt exhausted. So many thoughts and memories to cope with. So many paths she had taken. So many decisions to defend. Only one stood out like a brilliant star. She could hardly wait to pledge to her wonderful elf she would forever be his. Of course she had done that already but she wanted to make it official. That would be at least one branching in the many paths that she was certain of she would never regret. In the maze the trails of her life had turned into, he was her only true guide.

She felt the warmth of his hands upon the skin of her back, his fingertips radiating his love for her. It almost brought her to tears and definitively gave her a sense of belonging. She got overwhelmed with sheer happiness. He had come for her. Only that counted.

So why was she still hesitating about what she really wanted?

The most relevant question was: what exactly _did_ she want? Yes, she wanted to fight the demon and put him down. Yes, she wanted to join the Inquisition. To back them, to revenge Stroud's death, to put things right. To wipe out her biggest mistake. To quench those ever existing near overwhelming feelings of guilt, although they were not only stupid but even dangerous, as her father and her lover had made clear. But on the other hand, she also longed for a little cottage to live in with the love of her life, to have his children, to raise them together, to finally experience the peace and quiet she had heard so much about, and apparently was held in high esteem, but never knew anything of. The peace and quiet people were willing to fight for, to conquer or sustain. Were willing to die for. It must be very important. She wouldn't know but perhaps it was a worthy cause. She had to admit she was eager to finally, after a decade of battle, find out its appeal. 'I promise I will think about it,' she finally said. 'About all of your words.'

Fenris answered with a soft snort. 'I believe you. And I will take that promise very serious, don't doubt that.' After a short pause he added, 'I dare to bet Varric feels even more guilty than you do. Even worse: I'm fairly certain you have been the one trying to talk that feeling out of his system, instead of putting the encouraging wise words into practice yourself.'

Marian crumbled. As always his insight was her undoing. She couldn't ignore, let alone deny his remark. Especially added to the ones she remembered her father told her, such a long time ago. 'He does,' she admitted in a small voice. 'He says he has introduced red lyrium to Thedas and answered to Corypheus's plea by dragging us to that remote fortress. He says he is the one responsible for all the mess. He ignores every responsibility I carry.'

'I already figured he is as big an idiot as you are, when it comes down to guilt and all that kind of nonsense,' Fenris quietly laughed. At this time he felt too exhausted to keep up a fight, or even carry on a proper discussion, and he couldn't ignore or avoid the sleep that started to wrap him into velvet arms. 'Just know he, just as you, is completely wrong,' he mumbled. 'But don't you think you'll get the easy way out. We'll speak about this again in the morning.' And after that he finally drifted off.

Hawke, on the other hand, lay awake for hours, resting her head on Fenris's chest, her arm draped around him, listening to his steady heartbeat and soft breathing. And all the time her thoughts kept running. He brought her the peace and quiet she so much longed for and at the same moment she wasn't sure about what she exactly wanted. The cottage or the Keep? The peace or the fight?

Finally she too surrendered to the goddess of blissful sleep, reasoning the problem could wait till morning.

* * *

**Next chapter: Isabela makes a return. In her usual boisterous way.**

**And as always, thank you so much for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**You're not going to believe it but this is really the last chapter. Wow!**

**Alright, at first I want to explain that when I started to play the Inquisition I wasn't aware there had past already four years between the Battle of Kirkwall and the disaster at the Conclave. So when I began this story I simply assumed one thing very fast followed the other. Hence the swift follow-up from the fight in the Gallows (I mean Fenris's almost death) to this story. Now I know better and I can only hope you understand me. There must be others who were as tricked and confused as me. I hope.**

**Right, now this is off my chest …**

**My special thanks go out to redhawkerevolver who put me on the right track. I never could have made the final decision without her comment. So, simply, thank you. You have always been a bright star in the reviews to my stories. I can't emphasize enough how much that means to me.**

**I'd like to point out I've re-posted an edited chapter 4 because I was utterly unhappy with its contents. Nothing earth-crashing mind you. You don't have to reread it if you don't want to.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Give me answer part 7

Fenris slowly rose to the surface of existence. He had been sleeping like a log which was so unlike him it all but bore witness of the extreme fatigue that had overwhelmed him last night. At first he couldn't exactly discern where he was but then he felt Marian's warm and reassuring smooth body pressed into his and the memory of what happened last night came flowing back. There had been arguments and yelling, there had been tears and confessions and revelations and there had been breathtaking mind-searing lovemaking. And there would be a wedding. Later. Not now. At this very moment he simply basked in the soft early morning light that came floating like eiderdown through the window (apparently the only mellow event taking place in this blighted cruel country) while lying in a luxurious bed with the woman he loved so much he would without a second thought sacrifice his life for her, steadily locked in his arms. He frowned. Something was bothering his blissful peace; some irritating persistent sound he couldn't identify at first kept ranging at the back of his awareness and tried to catch his reluctant attention. He made a grave effort at opening his eyes and then recognized the source of the disturbance.

'There's someone banging at the door,' he murmured sleepily, unable and definitively unwilling to do something about it. He didn't want to abandon his safe haven.

'Hmm?' Marian was, if possible, even deeper plunged into oblivion and her reaction was nothing more than some kind of intuitive response to his irresistible voice that rumbled lowly in her ear. If she had been more alert, i.e. less covered in divine sleep, she had undoubtedly thought something like "her master's voice" and had laughed about it. Probably. The words "Master" and "Fenris" weren't a happy combination, at least not in his eyes. Or ears.

'I said – '

'Open this fucking door right now!' someone yelled at the top of their lungs, 'because if not I'll bash it in this very moment and I don't care in what kind of actions you're wrapped up! I need help!'

'Shit, it´s Isabela,' Hawke mumbled, 'what now?'

'I believe she wants to get in,' Fenris remarked, not taking any actions whatsoever to do something about it.

'So, what's keeping you?' Hawke informed groggily.

'I already got the wine last night,' Fenris protested. He thought it a solid motive not to leave his private little heaven. He snuggled even closer to his lover.

'I'm serious!' the pirate queen screamed from the other side of the door. The banging became more demanding.

'Oh bloody hell,' Hawke groused. Without actually thinking she freed herself from her elf's firm embrace, stumbled out of bed, stark naked crossed the rather vast space to the door and opened it, leaving Fenris behind with more than half of his private heaven ripped away. No woman, no soft body but instead pitiless coldness fast creeping in. He sat up, disturbed and annoyed, considering he might as well could have answered the urgent call himself until he ogled Marian's more than appealing bottom. That at least was worth something.

Marian had hardly slid aside the heavy iron bolt and opened the door ajar when Isabela darted inside and grabbed Hawke's shoulders, partly holding on to her and partly keeping her upright. 'We have to get out of here. Now!' she cried out urgently. Her eyes glowed panicky.

'Andraste's burning tits, calm down, will you!' Hawke reacted irritably, staggering back, 'give me some time to breathe. Maker's balls, I'm hardly awake! And let go of me godsdamned!'

'Very eloquently put,' Fenris commented from his comfortable position in the bed, 'I don't think I have heard you utter so many curses in one sentence before.' It made both women relax somewhat.

The pirate looked Hawke up and down. Through her desperation it dawned on her the woman before her was as naked as on the day she was born. She liked what she saw. Because, whatever crisis might appear, she always stayed Isabela. 'Well, to finally see you –'

'Don't even start!' Marian spat. She turned and walked briskly back to the bed where she slumped down, wide awake by now. 'What have you done this time?' On second thought she got up again and started to search for her clothes that got strewn around the night before. 'Drank all the stock of smuggled illegal whisky? Stolen the secretly hidden stash of red lyrium out of the vault? Murdered the First Warden?' She tried to struggle into her smallclothes. Isabela made a faint squeaking sound at the last suggestion which made Hawke look up sharply, leaving the fastening of her bra for what it was. 'For heaven's sake, woman, don't tell me you actually murdered the First Warden!'

Isabela mumbled something incomprehensible.

'What?!'

'I said, I might have knocked him flat out but I don't think he's dead.'

Hawke stared at her, at a loss for words.

'He asked me to marry him!' the pirate queen wailed, 'what was I suppose to do?!'

Fenris burst out laughing, something he very seldom did and Isabela looked at him with a hurt expression. Hawke just narrowed her eyes. 'It never occurred to you you could simply have said "yes" and after that sneaked out?' she hissed.

'I panicked,' Isabela tried to defend herself. 'He kept on rambling about what a marvellous couple we would make, what with all the connections; he as a Warden, beats me what kind of connections he would come up with, probably darkspawn willing to buy rich silks and expensive incenses, me as a, er, merchant and how he was infatuated with me, even loved me, because love on first sight blah blah – ugh – and painted a future with large profits and children to take over the family business we would establish. I mean, children!' She almost puked.

'Screw you Isabela,' Hawke said harshly, in the end succeeding in fastening her bra and pulling her tunic over her head, 'how you always find yourself in this kind of impossible situations is beyond me. And of course _we_ have to find a solution for your problem. Could you for once rein in your feelings of lust to begin with?! Horny sailors are one thing as are besotted lousy poets but once and again you will stumble upon men with really bad intentions like wanting to start a family. And stop laughing, you oaf,' she turned angrily to Fenris, 'get dressed before we have the whole army of Weisshaupt's Grey Wardens all over us.' She threw him his trousers and shirt.

Fenris's merry laugh changed abruptly into an indignant cough. 'Oaf?!' But the moment he saw his wife's-to-be expression he back-pedalled. 'Alright. Isabela, get back to your room, gather your gear and meet us at the gate. It won't take more than fifteen minutes. We will get you safely out.' He considered he owed her at least this much. After all she had dragged him here, to this Maker forbidden desolate place to reunite him with Marian. She had gone through all sorts of ordeals, not only to get him here but also to cope with his insufferable moods back in Kirkwall. It was no doubt the most she had ever done for someone. Saving her from an enraged First Warden was the least he could do. Men deprived of their pride could turn into very dangerous creatures he knew all too well.

Hawke, on the other hand, didn't feel that forgiving. 'We planned to get married today,' she snarled, 'you may have great problems with the concept of that institution, as it happens we don't. And I figured the First Warden had the authority to bind us together. So what are we supposed to do now?'

'They only thing related to binding and the First Warden right now is the belt I tied him up with,' Isabela murmured, 'together with the handkerchief I used as a gag.' Hawke glared daggers at her, not certain if the tying-up-part was some safety measure or sexual play and frankly, she didn't want to know.

Marian's remark left Fenris startled. 'Today?'

Again she turned sharply. 'Getting cold feet?! It was your idea in the first place!'

He tried to dissolve into the headboard of the bed under her flaming gaze. It didn't occur often he found himself at the receiving end of her fury and at the sudden he secretly wondered why he had been so grateful she had become her old self again. 'No. But I thought, er, I don't even have a ring. And don't you want some pretty dress and flowers and ...' he raked his mind to come up with what women in general wanted on their wedding day, 'er, bridesmaids ...?' he ended lamely.

'No!' she all but shouted, 'I don't want any of those stupid fancy things, I just want you! And you,' she viciously turned back to Isabela, 'ruined it. As usual.'

She left Fenris speechless. _I just want you_. After all the things they had shared; the pain, the accusations, all the wounds that had been ripped open, and closed for that matter, after all the turbulence and trepidations, after all the consuming fears, the hesitations and deep dark depressions she without thinking blurted out the four words that were so important to him. No hiding, no intricate explanations, no false poetic words, only that, _I just want you_. He swallowed down a lump in his throat.

Hawke deflated a little after her outburst. Just like Fenris she realized Isabela had done a lot to get them back together and to support the desperate elf. And her, when it came down to it. 'I'm sorry,' she started remorsefully, 'I didn't mean to –'

Isabela interrupted her with a bright smile and a casual wave with her hand; she just got some kind of crazy epiphany. 'The First Warden isn't the only one entitled to marry you. We can find Chantries all over the place when we succeed in getting out of this stronghold and leave this blasted part of Thedas.' She wasn't surprised to see Hawke's face contort with disgust. 'All right, no Chantry meddling. I know your opinion, it was just a suggestion I wanted to leave open.' She beamed even wider. 'I have a better proposition: I´m a Captain. I can marry you.´

Both Hawke´s and Fenris´s eyes flew wide. ´You´re a pirate!´ Fenris cried out, ´no real authority!´

Isabela raised a finger in protest. 'Ah,' she said pointedly, 'I hear Captain Man Hands' influence echoing in your opinion but you're wrong.' She beamed some more. ' You see, my handsome sweet honeycomb, I have a ship, a crew, an admiral's hat and lots of other captains willing to follow my lead and obey my orders once I get back to Kirkwall and finally can set to sea. In fact I have a whole fleet under my command. I think that counts for more than enough authority.'

Fenris looked pleadingly at Marian. 'You can't seriously consider this.'

But Hawke, in the meantime catching the irony of the situation, mirrored Isabela's broad grin. ´To be honest, I think it's brilliant. All right, you marry us right here and now and we will smuggle you out of Weisshaupt.´ Her smile widened even more when she addressed Fenris. 'You can't deny that Isabela marrying us after your, how shall I put it, rather alternative proposal is quite fitting.'

Oh yes, she was definitely her old self.

The elf let out a deep sigh, knowing he was defeated. This was a battle he couldn't possibly win and to be honest it wasn't worth fighting over.

And so, not five minutes later, they were married, with a signed and sealed and important and above that very genuine looking sheet of parchment and all (the parchment snatched from the small writing-desk standing in a corner of the living room of the suite). They had even fabricated two small rings out of plaited fragile looking twines of gold Isabela skillfully had pried off an expensive set of candlesticks.

'I guess we can always have a proper celebration and party when we find the time,' Hawke said after the obligatory and traditional kiss and then she resolutely pushed Isabela out of the suite. 'I think it's wise to disguise yourself,' she called after her before she closed the door.

'As what?' the pirate queen retorted sarcastically.

'I don't care. As a Grey Warden, a servant, a dressed up monkey as far as I'm concerned. Use your imagination, you have plenty of the stuff, you're practically drenched with it. I just think you shouldn't try to walk out of here as your very conspicuous and striking self with an infuriated First Warden wanting your blood or offspring or probably both. Just to be on the safe side.'

'Are you really alright with this?' Fenris asked after Isabela had taken her leave.

'With what?' With a heavy sigh Marian pushed the door shut. She drew a hand through her already disheveled hair, making a complete mess of it. She longed for a bath.

'This wedding or whatever you should call it.'

She walked over to him and nestled in his inviting arms. 'Of course I'm alright with it. The only thing that matters to me is that I'm yours and you're mine.' She looked up at him with a twinkle in her eyes. 'And you must agree this was by far the most bizarre and memorable wedding ever: performed in the middle of nowhere, in a hostile turned fortress due to the registrar, the marriage contract written on pinched parchment, the wedding rings hastily made out of stolen gold and the bride and groom ready to flee the scene to save their hides and said registrar. In short: so like us. We could as well have married in a dragon's den; as a matter of fact that would have been more plausible. Varric will have a field day when he hears about this. Although he undoubtedly will state it is too idiotic to be true and thus the tale will be useless for his stories.' She started to giggle uncontrollably. Fenris, who did agree by the way, silenced her with a heated kiss, a kiss much more passionate than the one that had sealed their marriage. It was the only thing he could come up with to prevent a hysterical eruption. It worked.

* * *

It had taken them the best part of half a week to reach the Exalted Plains where Isabela said her goodbyes, eager to at last join her fleet and take the postponed position as Admiral. She waved a dramatic farewell with her impressive hat; the ostrich feathers waved elegantly with her. Hawke and Fenris wished her all the luck in the world and uttered once more their deep and well intended gratitude which Isabela and the feathers on their turn waved away. In short, there was a lot of waving involved. Up till this day they had camped in the open air, standing guard on turn but this afternoon the newlywed stumbled upon a little village. Most of the houses were still nothing but ruins roofed with tarpaulin though reparations were being made with a lot of animated vigour; it was obvious that now the Inquisition had restored order in the region people were eagerly returning to rebuild their homes. And the inn was in surprisingly good shape.

'Oh, this is great,' Hawke said whit a contented sigh, 'a real bed to sleep in tonight.'

'You're getting soft,' Fenris teased with a crooked smile, 'four nights sleeping on the ground under the stars and you're already craving for a feather mattress.'

'I'm just out of practice,' she replied tetchily while she pushed the door open, 'don't worry, in no time I will appreciate the stones and roots in my back and the soaked blankets on a stormy night again.' She had to admit she had had difficulty with the rocky underground after getting used to a nice bed during her stay in Weisshaupt but the main reason she had been lying awake was the problem that kept swirling in her mind. She wanted to go to Skyhold but felt reluctant to drag Fenris along despite his statement he would honour her choice. It didn't feel right to involve him in her personal crusade. He had already endured so much because of her; it seemed hardly fair if not highly immoral to asked more of him. But she could hardly send him back to Kirkwall (as if he would listen to her in the first place) or steal away like she'd done before. This time the damage would be irretrievable. On the other hand his words about how much she'd done and given made her tremendously indecisive. He had a valid point and besides that had touched a sore spot. She should let it go, she should vote for that peaceful cottage somewhere remote, far from all the troubles the world could throw at them. They still had to have that talk he had promised her and she wasn't looking forward to it.

Unaware of her struggling thoughts the elf shook his head behind her and followed her into the inn.

* * *

'Fenris?' Hawke whispered carefully though with force, be it gentle force. Morning had broken and the room they had hired slowly filled with the light of the new day. She was convinced he was awake by now and just pretended to be asleep, revelling, just as she, in the warm proximities of their bodies. For some reason it was a newly found ecstasy. After all the months of unwanted separation they wallowed in the delight of this anew found pleasure and tried to make the outmost of it. Hawke remembered how wound up Fenris had been in the first years after their meeting, so edgily he hardly had been able to sleep at all, so it had been no less than a small miracle he finally could allow himself to drown into calm forgetfulness as it was. She almost felt guilty to draw him out off his quiet peace. But after again an as good as sleepless night she finally had cut the knot.

'Wazzyesay,' the elf mumbled fuzzily. His hand almost automatically went up and his fingers started to play lazily with a few strands of her hair.

'I've been thinking,' she said tentatively.

That made him come to attention; for some reason it sounded ominous. No need to accentuate that. Not at this early hour. How late was it anyway? He lifted his head an inch. 'Really? You can do that?' he chuckled throatily, 'I never knew.'

She lightly slapped his shoulder to chastise him. 'Don't! I'm serious. I've been thinking about what you said and I believe you're right.'

'About what exactly? I said so many things.' He left her hair and caught her fingers instead, softly caressing them, kissing sensually every digit and knuckle he came across. She let the wonderful and strangely erotic feeling wash over her for an enchanting few minutes until she realized there was something she urgently needed to tell him. She drew her hands back with an apologetic smile. 'Please Fenris.'

He was completely alert by now, and more than a little tense. One never knew what she would come up with. It could have a deadly outcome. 'What did you want to tell me?'

'About that I've done enough.'

He frowned. 'Meaning ..?' he asked warily. The drowsiness in his voice had definitely dissolved by now.

'I don't want to fight any longer. I'm sick and tired of it all. I've worked so hard and what has it earned me in the end? Some stupid title I can't even use anymore because it's close to a death warrant. I've lost so much and so many ... I almost lost you.' She pressed her lips in determination. 'Let somebody else do the fighting from now on, I'm done with it. I dream of a nice little house somewhere on a cliff overlooking the sea where we can raise a couple of children.' She smiled apologetically. 'That is, I hope you also want children.'

Fenris worked himself up on an elbow, forcing her to turn on her back. He stooped over her and cupped her face. 'Are you certain?' He could hardly believe what he was hearing. At the same time some nasty feeling began nagging at the back of his head. _She made this decision because of me. _For the moment he left the having-children-question for what it was, let alone he'd point out that a house on the top of a cliff would not exactly be the safest place to start a family, what with little toddlers running around and said cliff being a not to ignore danger in their energetic enthusiasm to explore their environment.

Hawke smiled wanly. 'Almost as certain as I am about my marriage with you. Don't be afraid it's some kind of whim. Like I said, I've been thinking.'

_Yes, you've been thinking my way damn it._

'So it seems,' he murmured. He had to let her words sink in. So many things had happened. Even after their strained reunion and strange wedding. They had but just fled Weisshaupt after a narrow escape. Heeding Hawke's advice Isabela had turned up in a heavy dark cloak that covered her features. She even had managed to find an Orlesian mask which had made Hawke almost choke with laughter. Despite the pirate's efforts they had had just moments to secure their properties on their mounts and on the moment they advanced the gate they had heard behind them the as good as deafening cry: 'Don't let them escape!' Apparently the First Warden had been freed from his bonds by that time and was very eager to revenge his hurt pride. Or to recapture his bride-to-be. The wooden drawbridge separating them from the fortress and the rest of the Anderfells almost became an insuperable obstacle when it got pulled up in an alarming fast tempo immediately after the command. It was only due to their fast will their horses made the final and utter leap to freedom. Some arrows had been shot at random but since the guards at the gate had been rather flustered to start with and not at their best after a long uneventful night on watch, all of the missiles had flew wide. Fenris had heard Marian shout out, 'He must want you really bad!', and Isabela's yelled answer, 'Or else he is actually truly desperate! Or completely insane!'

In the end the drawn up bridge worked to the disadvantage of their pursuers. It went too far to call them enemies in Fenris's opinion. The Grey Wardens had never searched the skirmish and neither had they. It had just happened, but then again, one could have expected something like this would come along while travelling with the pirate queen. It was a sheer wonder nothing similar hadn't happened before. One thing you could say for her, life grew never dull in her company. He'd miss her.

He realized Marian was waiting for a more cohesive reaction than "so it seems". 'So where do you want to go?'

He wasn't surprised she hesitated with her answer.

'I don't know,' she confessed after a long silence. 'I've been fretting about it for what seems an eternity.' She added with a brittle smile, 'The whole night to be frank, or better five whole nights.' She worried her lip. 'That's a mighty lot of eternities, let me tell you.' She let out a small sigh and Fenris almost cringed. _All because of me_. 'And every once in a while that house at the sea-side kept popping up. I thought you'd be happy with it. Stop looking at me in that way.'

'What way?'

'Like you don't believe me.'

'Oh, but I do believe you, don't doubt that.' He meant it because he simply _knew_ she was dead serious. And exactly because of that the unsavoury feeling kept dragging at his conscious. _She does this for you, she wants to humour you. She lay awake because of you, you moron_. He let his fingers tenderly and tantalizingly slow draw down her face. 'Do you really want to leave it all behind? Leave the battle against Corypheus into someone else's hands? Is that really your choice? Or do you deep in your heart still want to fight him? I already told you I'm fine with it. You don't have to fear my reaction. Just be honest. Don't do this because of me.'

'You're _not_ fine with it,' she contradicted him, 'you said you would confront me with my decision the next morning. That was five mornings ago. So ..?'

He clenched his jaw. If she wanted to play difficult she would get difficult. 'I want to get as far as possible from all this madness but I know damn well you don't despite all your hesitations and sudden yearning for a quiet life somewhere at some coast in some hovel with some children. You want to fight Corypheus and put an end to your unrest. You apparently lay awake all night and I'm quite certain you will spend much more nights awake in that dream house of yours -'

'Of ours,' she murmured.

'Of ours,' he continued fluently, 'if you leave the situation for what it is. So I suggest we go to that fortress and fight with the Inquisition. That's what you truly wish for. And I stand beside you. You know that So _stop_ fretting and be done with it.'

She pulled him close. 'This is idiotic,' she mumbled, 'you don't want to go to Skyhold to become a member of the Inquisition but nevertheless you're urging me on to do just that. Do you know I've contemplated to join Isabela's pirate fleet to leave all the suffocating issues behind? To just live the simple life of riding the waves, take booty where you can find it, fight the rivals off and get drunk in the next port? Gods, how simple life could be!'

He didn't now but wasn't surprised. 'I told you before I'm fine with whatever you decide to do as long as it isn't a decision made out of guilt. If you go back to Skyhold do it out of revenge, out of adventure for my part but _not_ out of guilt. I will follow you wherever you go.' He saw her sudden raised eyebrows and alarmed expression. 'Once a slave always a slave? An everlasting answering to the Master's whim?' He grinned silently and Hawke relaxed. 'You know that's not true.'

'I know.'

The death of Danarius had marked a definitive end to a long process. Of course the change hadn't come out of the sudden, it had taken time, a long time; the realisation of being free, really free, had come in slow paces, not at once but gradually. And with ups and downs at that. Killing his former Master had been the last barrier he had conquered. Their relation had been restored shortly after, because he had only then been able to forgo the fear of her falling into the monster's claws and she had been all but willing to invite him back into her arms. She had waited for him with a lot of yearning but an equal lot of patience. But still it struck her he now was able to sleep fast and make light of his gruesome past. She gave him a warm smile. 'You don't know half how much I appreciate your intention but my decision is final. Henceforth we're going to live the easy life of people without a care in the world. After breakfast we're going to hit the road and see where our feet take us. How about that.'

The hands that cupped her face suddenly went another much more exiting way. As did his mouth. 'Breakfast can wait,' he said huskily.

* * *

'And the dwarf wins again.' With a contented smirk Varric collected the silver coins gathered in a heap in the middle of the table and pulled the clinking metal his way.

'You must teach me that trick,' the Bull rumbled. As usual he succeeded in maintaining his rock fast merry mood though the dwarf had won too many rounds of Wicked Grace to be trustworthy.

'You know he has been cheating, Boss,' Krem said cheerfully.

'I know. Do I look like I bother?'

Krem chuckled. 'No Boss.'

'Good. Then shut up and pass me that pitcher.'

Varric had some way or another established a weekly evening of playing the infamous card game with the Iron Bull and his Chargers. It served as some replacement of the beloved times in the Hanged Man he missed so much. The participation of the Inquisitor and the rest of the strange companions who had flocked together in almost the similar way the ragtag bunch in Kirkwall had come to exist was quite rare. But the Bull and his small army were always in for a game. At this very moment they were gathered in Varric's comfortable apartment close to the main hall.

Before the Qunari could refill his mug a voice sounded from the doorway of the room. 'Even from this point I can see you have at least three cards hidden about your chest hair and upon your sleeves, you evil bastard.'

Varric almost fell from his chair in pure astonishment. 'Hawke!' he exclaimed, 'and, and Fenris!'

'Hey, look who's back!' Bull roared joyfully, 'the Slayer of Dragons and Arishoks and she brought a friend.'

'Not only a friend,' Hawke replied, smiling inwardly at what she was about to cause and thus keeping an eye on Varric. 'Fenris, meet the Iron Bull and his notorious Chargers; Bull, this is Fenris, my friend, my conscience, my lover and since recently my husband.'

She didn't get disappointed. Varric dropped his tankard and the contents spilled all over the table. A great deal sloshed into his lap but he paid no attention to the deluge. 'What?!' he yelled in shock, 'you are married?! Just like that?! Without letting me know?! And you couldn't have just waited a few more days?!' His voice caught with unrefined agitation and his face turned crimson. It was quite a sight to behold.

'No we couldn't,' Hawke tried to explain to the mighty affronted dwarf, 'because at the time we were committing the offence we weren't planning on heading here. We only decided that on the road to, uh, the road to ...' She deflated when realization hit home.

'On the road to Skyhold,' Fenris helpfully completed her sentence, 'for that's what you wanted all along no matter what you tried to tell yourself. To come to this place.'

Hawke had the decency to look ashamed. 'So you noticed. It wasn't on purpose, I swear it. I meant it when I said I was done with the whole Corypheus business.'

Fenris shot her one of his heart-melting lopsided smiles. 'I know. It was rather amusing actually, the way you kept denying we were travelling in the direction of Skyhold while it was so obvious the place attracted you like a magnet.'

'Then why didn't you say something?!'

'And spoil all the fun? I wanted to find out when it dawned on you and see your reaction. It was priceless, by the way, how you tried to feign utter surprise when we spotted the castle from a distance. As if you had never seen the place before and was stupefied we just like that blundered upon it.'

'You played along!' Hawke muttered huffily.

'Of course I did; no need to start a row on a mountain pass. You're apt to cause an avalanche when you get truly angry and put your back into it. You're qualities are many, Marian, but I would advise you not to consider an actor's career. Although I must admit the "while we're almost there we can as well stop by and tell Varric the news" part was rather good.'

The dwarf, still hugely taken aback, glowered fiercely from one to the other. 'Can you at long last explain why exactly you are here?'

'To join the Inquisition,' Fenris answered bluntly, 'why else? Evidently it was either that or become pirates.' Or parents, he thought but he deemed it wiser not to say that one aloud in case Varric got the wrong impression and definitively a heart-attack.

'Ha!' the Iron Bull bellowed, 'we can always use two feisty daggers and an impressive sword. Sit down, have a drink. Varric, wipe that stupid scowl off your face, it doesn't suit you. Krem, get the good stuff, this calls for a celebration!'

'Everything always calls for a celebration with you,' Krem grumbled but nevertheless got up to fetch the cask of the "good stuff" Bull had brought along. No complaining there.

* * *

Later that night, much later, they found themselves in each other's arms on their bedrolls in a shabby unused room somewhere on the ramparts. Varric had assured Josephine would arrange for other accommodations first thing next morning but they were just glad they had somewhere decent to crash after all the drinks they downed.

'You must believe me I never wanted to deceive you –' Hawke began but Fenris silenced her by putting his fingers on her lips. He smiled.

'There is no need to apologise; to be honest you started to frighten me with your compliancy.' He chortled softly and pulled her close. 'In fact I blamed myself for your behaviour. I understand you want to put down the demon. And stop worrying, so do I. But, love, as I emphasised so many times, please not out of guilt.'

'Not out of guilt,' she answered drowsily and more than a bit drunk due to the good stuff, 'out of true conviction. Or revenge. Or adventure.' She contemplated this. 'We could advertise a whole new unexplored territory for the true adventurers: The Fade, where all your nightmares come true.' With much effort she heaved her head. 'Fenris ..?' Her elf, already seriously on his way to blissful oblivious sleep, mumbled something unintelligible, something that hovered between annoyance, patience, _im_patience and glowing love. It sounded adorable and Hawke giggled softly. 'Thank you.'

He shot out of his slumber and cautiously opened one eye. 'For what?'

'Understanding me. For rejecting my choice.'

'There will always be a time for that hovel on that cliff. With lots of children.' He kissed her. 'I want lots of children. With you. In the end. After all this.' He frowned. 'Perhaps not on a cliff. Somewhere more safe.'

'You're right, as always. But first we will beat the bastard down. Together.'

'We will,' he agreed, 'I'm all with you, I will be at your side. I love you. Deeply. And we will beat the – him together. But, please, will you finally grant me my well earned sleep?!'

With a deep sigh she buried herself in his arms. 'Yes,' she mumbled with a happy smile.

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading and staying with me through all my struggles. I can't emphasize enough how much that means to me.**

**I love you all!**

**P.S. I don't know if there are ladies out there who have played as a male Inquisitor just to romance Dorian, if not I highly recommend it. It's all worth it. Best romance in the Inquisition. Just try it, you won't be disappointed.**


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